The night drags on.

It pulls itself from nowhere till dawn.

And we all snuggle in our beds,

eight hours to make it through our jobs.

Girls leach off the men,

and the men abuse the woman.

But we like to call it love.

The night ungulates over the landscape,

Like a worm with a shimmering back.

And the primates fight for power,

they drive tanks, and crown-Vics,

and, they convinced the world they are gods.

But we like to call it politics.

The night lingers over us.

Like a poison ivy branch over a baby.

We wallow in the muck, because its just too easy.

Why try to fix it? Its so profitable.

After all, we only live until we don't,

but most don't live at all.

People empty themselves.

Go ahead, it is so easy.

Just let it go,

be numb and join the family