I watch the news incessantly
No longer occasionally
To fill my curiosity
like before

I am cured of my schizophrenia
By this claustrophobia
A lost utopia
constantly gnawing at the door

But this anticipation
Is without a subject for gratification
Or applicable solution
without table or chairs, an open floor

It started on nine eleven
Watching seven sixty sevens
Live streaming from heaven
burn the living horror

I don’t know what to expect
I haven’t any clue to dissect
Or any thing to reject yet
not at two or three maybe coming
…at four