trips

talking about trips don't trip
don't move don't groove
sitting in street poverty such cross
nailing you down in the tomb of
lost paradise eating at your brain
your eyes your infinite holes piercing
the guts of well-fed bourgeoisie

never gave you a penny what fear they
tumbling down your nameless night
sucked up into the pit of your desire
ever forgetting the laws of herdy life
us folks too dumb too spoilt too bribed
naturally striving to crush you in filthy squares
and let you die in the fire of
your extinguished stare and the why
of hunger gnawing
abandoned in
cardboard bare
just ignored
your ruin
in native rug
dreaming of plains and flapping wings
of eagles white and black plummeting
your body shaking
essential truths
unquenched