BORED BY THE ARRIVALS

Bored by the stainless blades slicing down this conversation 
Deaths early arrivals pour by off the savage verb
and you ready under roots so damned
plans that Jesus made while
roll away the stone 
were lyrics scrawled on lime ash halls and pavement graves 
multitudes dance in naked veils 
distance creeps upon its nearer self
and mirrors dedicated  visions 
sprawl to wrestle embrace 
night in its blind rhetoric states hidden whispering threats
as fingers tap silence in tuneful disgrace 
piled flesh vent the wasted sounds
 enough howls the running
hound .