They live in hermetic worlds, awoken
By the obscenity of the homeless:
The demons of their faith. They cleared the air
Of dangerous aromas, sanitized
Language to keep psychic villains at bay,
Made death itself the image of failure,
Denying existence and its purpose.
Consuming vast amounts of medicine
To quiet their dreams, they categorize
Meaninglessness, removing all pleasure
From discovery, then scurry quickly
Behind invisible walls where the talk
Vanishes on impact, a silent scene
Of brittle, victorious lifelessness.