​Corpses and Criminals

Our plans for happiness have been sabotaged
And delayed indefinitely,
But the apparatus of curiosity
Still hums and squeaks.
From the meticulous detailed map
Of this town we live in
The slaughterhouse is somehow conspicuously absent.
We have squandered countless opportunities,
And there is a new rivalry
Between all manners of self-destruction,
But for the meantime
I am miraculously alive, free and unmaimed.,
And perhaps the lessons doled out by disregard
Will let this reckless spirit live on,
Until the earth gives up pursuit of its tail
And finally abandons its journey
Around the sun.