Fitting in
Slouching, in the slanderous void
Every wind-bloated brag
Distorts, the true boast of the world

Content for the ride
Through the rattling snares
Of each voice’s squandering
And improvised squawk

Like jazz halls on stilts
They swindle all travelers
With their underworldly pleasures

Fitting in to foam
So worthless
In the gutters of their minds
Spoiled and befouled
By the chatter of our day

We are reckless and rotten
Like the bandits who raged
Long before