To Crown

My friend our dream of waking disavows us
It doesn't notice or give presence to the
Violence we pursue being in relation to
Other beings and blood spilled elsewhere

Than this labyrinth this space-time a site
Where I or you will not become grieveable
Inextricable from a genealogy of morals
Images flaring-up non-sensible of what we

Are capable of given to other visions the
Objective withdrawal of what we would
Have been unnamed just a mound of skulls
Inscrutable quiddity we will not awake

From refusing I have a dream yes we can
Is our bad faith for which skin and action
Has failed us the collective will to awake
Now time is only sufferance saving what we

Know the intelligible guns the accidental
Guts no names enough to crown these bodies
Tear-covered letters form a threshold
Fiction forgoes hell for a made-up sun.