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The world
is an asylum
one need not look
any farther than
the madness of war
the plight of the poor
enfants
going to bed hungry
wanting more
thirsting for
but
there’s none to eat
nor drink
they sleep away
their hunger and their thirst
t h e d e c e p t i o n . ! ?
things
can’t get worse . !
no one sees them cry
as mothers’ breasts
run dry
p h e n o m e n o n . .
defined by
the madness of the day
the darkside of our way
this our existence
in oblivion’s
P h a n t a s m a g o r i c M i s t
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