Jaws of progress
clamp shut on
windows of detritus
with beggars at the gates
of celluloid damnation
in lonely patterns
of industries sleep
the bleak collaboration
with father's fangs
on the mobius road
of festering song;
bitter wine sipped
from a cracked chalice
by a broken wand
as tremulous vapors of
lazy days and restless
nights glimmer weakly
from the driven eyes of
a blind child in a cage.
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