And Open Our Veins In Triumph Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

A steady persistence.
Constant fluctuations dripping
with the asphalt burning in the sun.

The same words.
The same sounds.
Nothing changes.

Floods of ice water shackled
by the groaning candles
that burn like forest fires
left unattended by conceit.

We are as vacant
as the shadows.
A pretending that
everything is fine.

Ignore the emptiness.

The nothing from which
nothing begins. We mouth
the signs of denial

and open our veins
in triumph.