there is a war outside my window; I greet it with unopened eyes.

Isn't ignorance just plain bliss?

my soul is up for sale but I can hardly take notice.

it seems to me there should be more important, more forthright

things in the universe than this.

while Heaven rages, I sleep.

(Our) peace was shattered by early september, never to be regained

just evolving into this thought we would save, so nicely and so chastely,

for some long midsummer day.

"oh, do you remember,

do you recall, how we used to be?"

like two lovers that learn to never talk;

like two soldiers who meet in passing, for just a moment

and cannot click tongues. connections never supplied.

I see sadness cavorting or rejoicing in your weary eyes.

while Heaven rages, most of us just sleep.

The ignorant tend to be the only ones that live happily.

I was once happy until the news followed me home, hot on my heels

and sat perched above me while my bed was set aglow.

It gripped me by the throat and thus could not let me go. Never.

Now I watch the downtrodden and burdened on the street below,

bleeding their hearts out on the cobblestone.

It is all VAIN, I want to say. I want to shake them out of their trivial stupors.

I want to scream and rip the words from the ceiling.

Or plaster them on posterboards, sky-high. So no one can miss them-

Instead my mouth stays solemn. My river run dry.

Some things are better, this way.

I don't think of September but much rather December,

when everything felt as heavy as iron crushing my dank heart.

While heaven rages, I am asleep. I am (a) minute.

The guilty live on in our breaths, in our speeches,

always on our minds.