the night was soft admittance

a few words on the way

to the operation theatre

scalpels were suddenly held at bay

teenagers crowding the fountain

were told to go home

a flock of sedimentary birds

fled through the clockwork

where time still was held for ransom

see not the desperation

wolfs kill for

see the unicorn

hear not the false whisper

of dark men in charge

heed the call of instantaneity

the dead were still dead

begging for an instant mercy

man is such a sore patient

call me not to the emptiness

of political eggshells

nor to the congregation of mice

I still meet the beggars every day

I still see what you have done

be gone I whish