power is feeble.
infants Even stricken to wreaths
for a fountain of saviors
cannot harden their veins
to a crust & utterly grow old
for silver and dust itself foursquare
the golden rule’s attainment carcase
byzantine failures
bring your watery disk
to the same cheese
that poisoned your
philosophers

you will clench until your fist becomes brittle
you will crack and shatter

interior eyes will break
even

the ratio is will to force
the rulers are their hunger
for fear

even upon he who came out of a message. or having been a messenger became a commandment. crucified to call me fetishized in the light of god. they cannot lift a demon to heaven saying they will seduce the grammar of god with their good deeds.

and those pieces dimming
your words - they are fallen
stars like trust in envy
nothing more

into a half spiral of satiation

attention twisted into what dark
they die for