sneak like the
    
i wonder
bluster the rain
    
the rude rain
the bureaucratic
    
the wind
sneak under
the decrees
    
tell to fail
can they
    
can i duck
    
can i fuck
make a full good
    
this job’s fucked
not mere half cocked
    
incompetence
string and scissor
    
half repair
    
    
no future
this island’s
    
trap and trapped
not marx’s gold
    
& monkey’s hand
there is no gold
only burnt sense
    
that craic
the moat
    
the end of language
so if i turned
    
built
made my own castle
    
burned mud
i’d trap me there
    
an ant
    
    
a house
    
    
    
marx’s gold
abandon it to be
the less you own
    
the less trap
i should
    
if i can’t carry
    
    
discard
    
    
    
the trap
    
    
    
    
they are
surrender the job
    
back to the cobweb coyboys
winter rain
    
a violent accost
attested and gathered
    
met
a violent accuse
    
to do a good job
    
tried
the violence
    
of endemic
    
    
it’ll do
    
    
    
incompetence
the corporation
    
must policies
    
    
of peered
    
    
    
make do
run along
    
a later
make tomorrow’s collapse
    
someone else’s grief