Mocking the detached flaneur
On her back, back in the grass
Really wishing to be her
Naming the clouds as they pass
In your suit and on your way
Never once lifting your chin
God, it’s good to die today
God, it’s good to live in
Lacunas black and suffocating
Obdurate men there sleep
Recklessly adulterating
Youthful streams beneath
But there will come a time for
Relegation of the weak
It’ll wash their bones to shore
Not one dam will keep
Graves will take you
Mercilessly
Eternally make you
Guilty; cursing the sea
Rot while alive if you choose
All day until you die if you choose
Your clouds don’t have to move.