how long must I wait how long must I wait till the mountains of avarice turn blue how long must I wait how long must I wait till the moleskin I pick becomes fuse avulsion limps its spurs in the pinches of my earth the dust I kick of animus shatters recorded on my reels of tape the trauma stops my flow and in your suppression tastes sulfur hear the children say tear the mended sails how long must I wait how long must I wait till the mountains of avarice turn blue how long must I wait how long must I wait till the moleskin I pick becomes fuse as if suddenly your avalanche reverses my polarity and secretly... I know that come sunday morning you’ll be standing at the pulpit to an empty room hear the children say tear the mended sails the drowning water you drank passed at my birth I’m no longer willing to give you control