6. dead on arrival
questions concluded
riddles resolved
metaphors made sensible to see
mirages tangible enough to touch
poked and prodded
my fears delivered to me
the words i wrote in blood
stabbing me in the heart
my optimism kills me
i die by my own vocations
a piece of me dragged to the woods
marking my death with a rock
the choir is singing in rejoice
i’m hearing melodic catastrophies
nothing but the blues
like your stupid songs on shuffle
what died on arrival
will keep the poets up at night
the dreamers will lose hope
the kids will be discouraged
the philosophers will be busy
with conspiracy for centuries to come
going against the gods
just to say we have free will
don’t you know why rome fell?