Thoreau's Rolling Over In His Grave

Perpetually waiting
Gradually creeping normalcy
Daringly unapologetic
In the midst of certain discontent
The concrete doesn't break with the teeth
He simply breaks the teeth themselves

Cemented idle
Tormented tasting
Morbid racing
Paddling to shore in a boat
Eating itself
Scratching at its wounds
Taking in water gladly

When we do reach land
It's abandoned
Vacant
Nothing but fog and trees
Discussing loneliness
And other casualties of the world
Which they have no control over

They don't have feet to walk to bars
No hands to dial numbers of distant others
One just leeches off the wind
The other rummages through dirt
Both continue on this course
Till they find an eternity to sleep with