Judgment Day

We struggle, not for reason but for none
Born free, born strong, but to be bonded weak
For judgment day comes sooner than you think
The very day we work and worm the warren
As our eyes first behold that yellow sun
The world from in our well will want its drink
To write the path we follow into ink
Foretelling of a soul that soon be fallen
I miss my crooked teeth and always did
That’s what I was to be, I still believe
I haven’t been myself, not ever since
I miss the folds in which my penis hid
A womb I’ll never know, my winter’s sleeve
Whence could the inner boy to man evince

A Beautiful Day

It helps me to look forward to the day
When there is nothing left to do but die
When gone will be responsibilities

Perhaps immobile in the bed I’ll lay
As those still bound do stand around and cry
But I, though nearly dead, will not shed tears

Of course, expect that I will house regrets
Conflicts left unresolved within the hive
And though I hope these dreams will hedge my bets
For what can be while I am still alive

There is no calling left to dying’s day
Can stress a man, nor stand in freedom’s way.