a pill for that shame

I am Parsifal in the night
beneath the lamp of voices
held down on wet sidewalks
shouting at midnight in a room of slums
drawing the unknowable on its walls
there is a treasure lost in this world of things
sagas of lobes and basal ganglia
to confront the mortuary silence

do we still die from grief
now when a city is the moment
only here is this magic called psychosis
and stitched with pills to
hush essential inner worlds
bottles of punctuation and duty to
massacre the raging protagonists

please, I remind you
do not applaud my first act


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