Face-brick Constellations

The glue of the community cuts the circulation
Clumsy fingers clutching detonators
A mediocre massacre rattles the floorboards
A prophet's promise rapturing the ribcage

Ashes to the heartburn of the second class
Murder to their mechanical hips
Fire to their rigid lawns and paper trails
Panic to the sprawling metropolis

It's the boredom that beats you
And the sound of it echoes
One after the other collapsing
These face-brick constellations patronise me
The smear of monotony
A backwards revelation
A small-time swindle, two bit operation
A testament of temperament
A tribute to complaisance
A needle swiftly puncturing the breastplate.