There is no Pill
Or Beverage
That can fix
It
All—
One can run,
Into the open,
Escape the slaving dungeon,
But darkness
Follows, and condenses
Wherever He should
Lay to Rest—
One can forever
Run,
Only to realize
A Life’s Time
Is not enough
To hide.
So Young one,
You and your
Unspent Beauty,
Take to the Strenuous strides;
Learn to work
In darkness,
But resting in Light.
The clockworks of the underworld
Are easy to know—
Fuel all doubts with
Adrenaline and ecstasy,
Place an elusive smirk
Across the cheeks,
And be prepared to do anything—
Beneath its apparent safety,
There lies the devil
Of doggy dog
Full of animal instincts;
Play nonchalant,
Relax the shoulders,
And enjoy the circus.
But keep your eyes
Peeled;
Ready two-plus ways out
Lest it begins to prowl.
.
.
.
The cheap tricks;
The toxified glee;
Milieus of afraid and dangerous
Deadbeats.
You know your ways around it,
Have seen the poor bastards
Who were forced to bleed.
You were never one of them,
But never were you
One among the survival creatures
Of the suicidal, daily Races.
Particular Moments 