Sleepwalkers

Your poetry describing me

It doesn't come close

You work the handle

You smear and turn

But you come no closer to meaning

It's your vanity

That's obvious

It embarrasses

Those that adore you

But who's gonna talk

Oh how it'll hurt

You were always unstable

But you've gotten worse

You looked into mirrors

Where death was at work

Of that you were certain

But it was all surface

And surface is numb

Something to wake us

From cultural slumbers

You fucking sleepwalkers

Go on and sleep

Go on and sleep

This is tomorrow