Dedicated to S/Z
I. Dream
A Virtual Angelus
Visits me by a living stream,
Descending down like a curve,
Speaking of the times to come.
Pandemonium, Pandemonium, Pandemonium,
The centre cannot hold,
Pan is Dead. Hospitals ful-
fill new moratoriums
Death turns into data-points,
Digital, digestible digressions,
Graph upon graphs
Bodies pile in cold crematoriums,
While I check the time at home
April drowns the sorrowful months to come,
The crown conceals no tomorrow,
Breaths present fear
Poisons trembling
In
the
Air,
Full of
Restricting,
Respirating Despair
Continuing to keep
My shylock eyes
Checking the clock,
I read the Times at home,
On my phone
Helpless, cruel, and bored,
Turning helplessly cruelly bored,
The solo soul stuck to a shining screen
As though to shield
Suffering from our visual field
Sick of news of nothing done,
We languishly lament and lounge,
Sisyphus on a couch,
Spoon-fed through vision,
Sylvestered vulpic lies
But no screen
Can quarantine,
That which cannot be unseen
When paradise falters,
How will we sleep,
Sacrifice at the altar,
Rivers run red and weep
II. Gospel
Even hedgehogs congregate,
Months after they hibernate
If lovers were forever cursed,
I’m sure their hearts would burst,
Those unversed would never know
What it is to thirst,
For the feeling of being nursed
Some say things will get worse,
Before they get better
Others say the Summer heat
Will stagnate the spread,
But the winter
Will revive the worst
But if things get better before they get worse,
That leaves me to wonder,
Is it better for things to get worse,
Then to get better?
Or is it worse for things to get better,
To get all the worse?