The Fellowship of Our Folly

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The Fellowship of Our Folly

The drip of shit
The flow of excrement because we cannot keep our mouths shut
Spittle and froth
Because we do not take our words to heart
The stench of this waste
A repository of suppositories
Where we lay all our curses to rest
Trading them about like so much clutter
One for two
Five for six
Yours and mine
All about in this havoc
The disintegration of value
The loss of equivalent exchange
A marker
A buoy in the midst of this tidal wave of angst
The sludge flows
Moves within us
The heartbeat is gone
We are left in the wake
Left with the refuse of all that has been before
The st-st-stutter of excellence
The loss of innocence
The absence of guilt
The dissolution of blame
Nothing to be given
No quarter to gain
Frozen byproducts
The cattle we claim
Death comes quietly
In this soundless rush
This muted uproar
A knife to cut
A vein to bleed
The pain to spark
With bones to burn
The effort required to carry on is too great under the strain of burdens we no longer bear.

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