it seems that everywhere i turn
another mirror gleams
brilliantly hopeless facsimiles
who smile vaguely
while shifting through
perpetuations
to stammer in clamorous gaits
at the doorstep of my dreams

and at the top of my tower
i barely here them call
sifting through stars and motes of dust
i see my petty wall
isn't ******* high enough

the thought to me
is crippling
how could we not avert
the *******
with all the glances
we have stolen from our pasts
how could we sever worth
in search of "progress"
as if life were a contest
instead of an event
is it not obscene
how we grow like cancer
and deceive ourselves
in thinking we have
all our answers

it seems that everywhere i turn
another terror grins
inconspicuous in the hearts of men
who obliviously commend themselves
for subordination
to hammer with calamitous endeavor
on the pillars of my paradise
condemning forever
the kingdom of my dreams