The air is purring like a voided breeze,

and the rare birds chirp out their history

as proud humans who dared to touch the trees

and turned to birds – that is their harsh story:

That is how construction works in this world:

we build up just to break down narratives

that we recycle as peasant tongues hurled

from their mouths and buried by nude natives:

I stood for something until corrected,

now I snipe from a crumbling skyscraper;

each shot is even aimed lower, flicted

by the slack body politic's taper:

My posture remains in tact, and I score

each death on the pristine and marble floor.