The Sophist

2014-06-18 12:00 am

Abeyant for the fall of man,
Obeyant utilitarian,
To be killed by robot tanks,
Brought to life and killed again.

To turn the world into a sun,
Instead I'll long to own the moon,
No muse but she, the only one,
Her darkness tears my skin of gloom.

Bottled pride,
A drunk misuse,
Beauty whore'd out to the masses,
All could be in bliss without,
Fragile multitudes,
No doubt, 
My love is better glass-less.