Words fly and are the measure of man
Take stock of your syntax, your sinful desire
See what you are
What you were
Realizing that the past was a sum total of an equation you forgot
Sitting, languishing in a book bag never cleansed.
Intrepid reason collides with plebeian emotion
Trying to out do each other, the dare comes out
The double dog, the triple, can you handle that?
Graded heads bowing and bobbing to the god we created
not of blood and bone but of high minded intellect
worship until we weep, panting plaintively over another one
lost to the faith we have so carefully constructed.
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