It seems all our words have bled into the common grave
Coerced by our confederacies of elective affront
Excruciated to expiate our repurchased regret
To resurrect caliginal ambitions better left unchecked.

We raised monuments to our collective contempt
Secure in the conviction of sacred conceit
Our bastion a redoubt from that malignant moderation
To drown in the certitude of vainglorious release.

Debauched of ambivalence we drown in repletion
The panoply of colors before black and white succumbs
So we must mistake proportion for our privilege
And bind all expectation to that blinded inevitability.

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