Waning Intelligence

His decollation of abstract pages sent to her from afar,
Well beyond the understanding of mere mortals,
Ushered fear into the hearts of all that have followed him:
Down the streets of unique design, patched together in
A vacant bondage, separated by the fingers, breeding grounds
For the cathartic flashes of the soul; but here, we find no sauna
For latent throngs, only a blight on the knowledgeable tree
Swaying its crying branches, while children, naïve and immortally
Flawed, climb limb by limb higher than the night’s sky, bending
Arrows headed for their brains, while he looks upward at the activity, he knows that this show doesn’t matter, leprosy and butchered gains for a place to put himself to sleep, to rest for once,
Wake up to strong coffee and start to assemble the pages, he would trade all the diseases, organic and chemical, for a final view into
Trenches of his waning intelligence.