I take a particular joy in hearing
that kings or queens have died.
How absurd, to expect to be adored.
The world is an uncertainty,
transmitted during the intermission.
Like the poetry of the what-I-should-have-saids.
In the intrinsic conflict between society and the individual,
responsibility is always a choice.
The rich can’t afford to care.
But I want, unapologetically,
to see privileges privileged for everyone.
Pride is more vincible than disappointment,
but have you protested the pretext of the context?
To be aware is to beware—
virtue is the most savory vice.
The raven, too, despises death.  Even so:
Bring me the head to which I feel entitled!
No mercy from the mercury.
Is it time yet
to deploy the deposition?