82: Land

Even the pacific admits its shores are polluted,
yet desolate of souls and the weight of hearts.

AS IT RACES to buildings and civilization,
the waves cover up the blemishes.
Exhaustion from sun and the drying of minds
from the drought of the morals and the thirst for a sign
that will justify them,
needle-and-stitch,
Perfumed oil on the palms of the rich.

A surprising mirage, it's been discovered to be,
one discovered by deserters.
One of I has been called up to the plate
and I will have to follow the others.
There is not need to protest or proliferate
fear that arises from mediactivity;
instead there is but yourself to fend for
to fetch for, to fight for
the lives of your brothers.