urban loop

it is in these earnest times
that the skeletons pulse electric
and small-step emergencies
only shake up the partial.
sight only raises the question
of whom the freak is
this time but
this time
it does not exist.

and so i grew,
in terror of the strong
and unpopular.
they wade among us still.
the multiplicity is reconstructed
and the mundane sell
themselves off.
at once, the eyes are passive
but words are anything but.

urban loop,
sing to me now
of small nothings
and realities inconsequential,
as if the level-headed
are prophetic
and the apocalypse
drips upon us.

the clever survive and thrive and play
the fools,
but antiquity is dying off
in the way we live.
and yet i cling
to the notion
that we can learn something
from the dead.