Blessed crime

seeking catharsis
bounds must be overstepped
minds must be broken
civilizations leveled
floods come from stilled water
so the earth can resettle
at a higher level
my days swell
for lack of “arête”
a rational will believes
by the management of bills
by new collars
by thought surfing, seated sex
by food syrup and milk
that passions are sated
Helen lays untouched in the tomb
the graces turn their heads away
while criminals and artists
snare the cobra
from its attic womb
the rest medicate
on liquors and plays
wait for the walls to close in
seal shut the doors
and raise up that buried ache
shattering all membranes
raining down the self
the self, the self!

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