What Do You Hear Now, Walt Whitman? (5)

5

Awww! So tonight the world hangs its head and sighs,
do we finally see what we've done?
The wrinkling ravages and savage human tendencies
and blizzard summers and midnight strokes
and sidewalk bombs and tumbling towers
and empty glasses and jagged rain drops
and soaring cries and naked newborns
and all the decapitated and bloody rivers
and empty bottles and war prisoners
and trembling, trembling children hiding in cribs.
Tonight whispers the words of hope and hell,
tonight sings songs of blues and ruins,
gulps a little before crying endlessly out in open cold.
Heaven hangs lower and strangles the clouds,
the world just spins and twirls like an excited child.

We'll be there, waiting,
falling fast asleep, missing it.

We'll be there, just as empty,
lying in the gutter next to some same sad drunk,
slowly swollen but somehow sincere.

We'll be there, we'll be there waiting.

Awww, the world tingles with disease,
she smiles like normal and pretends to ignore, twirling.
She hurts so much but she goes on spinning.