Sentenced

Let’s play among the things that slink
and think they know what’s going on
beyond the brink: let’s sink into the kink of their
green steamy world, surrender to their twirled
dark dreamy internecine paranoia:

and enjoy a stark wet brush with the confusion
of the wanton rush of a conclusion
that if we don’t voice the proper choice –
alight upon the right decision based on all
the cloudy imprecision of a trust in absolutely

nothing sure, that we’ll endure, until we can’t,
the crush of an intolerable sentence, so untouched
by any application of repentance, and so weighted
down by semiotic shroud-y sludge, lush chants
of cant and easy idiotic rhymes like these,

that no one could begrudge the satisfaction
of our yearning to be put out of our miseries:
let’s drink insentience from a sentence
quite as long as this, and see if we
can stand a taste of its abyss.




 
.