TIME FOR A NEW MASK

Now to the place where the moving firestorms
are no longer stopped by fog
doubt is the only constant companion

world crowded by superstructures
that take care of it, badly.

There is a lion in the mind of the flesh
who looks on aggravated, waiting for one
to submit to greatness and give all this new meanings.

Give me the wrath in your heart
and I will look after it
show me your loneliest landscape
rippled by the sound of shells breaking
I will help you to take it over
though my form is a tyrant
moving at times against me
in pickled youth, with a hatred for me alone
and a sidearm that inhabits my liver

when you are so tender to my foolishness
and I fall through the gulps of the earth in a usual way
and nothing that we are glued to feels familiar
in all the froth of what we wish
so it will happen and exist beyond us
from our hints
the curvature staked out
the presence of blue yonder in the space-time continuum