I see ants building an empire
in a small dirt-filled box
I see humans building their kingdom
in a remote part of the cosmos
recording their glory
with absurd time and clocks.
I see history defined
as a progress of wars.
Killing is the process
life’s now banal
A bloody pool of misery and pain,
To currency we are whores.
Gods we have killed
Kings we will hang
Our own we have slaughtered
ethics we devised
the freedom of man
we shamelessly harangue.
Hear our proclamations,
shouting we are free
rejecting possibilities
that all we are is nothing
part of the structure
of a decomposing flea.