The Lost Boys

A nation celebrates the mourning of closets and vacuums

peppering the horizon, 

with deadly uniformity

no mans land

beyond cellular perception created with oblivion

exemplifying teamwork as the authority best qualified to evolve into culture.

yet for those who don’t live the war

comfort the dark rage of ceremony, the lost boys of Canterbury, a taciturn bugle laying waste the cylinders and detonations of sacrificial commercials prescribed by sands of rogue suspicion

inside the queue marching outside the subject of punctured privilege

toward neural affirmation

and victory

legitimacy survives

a blinding light

indigenous to memory

the regent swims beyond the statistics sewn into twilight stars as co ordinates of democracy

the celebration of evolution, who it chooses or denies is the academic predilection of religion

lost in the trenches.