In the whirlwind of chance there’s a play
The chemical bath that is my holy reset
A midnight’s prayer of my yellow parade
Inès in the dark, magnet of the Lion’s claw
The trance that is our solar eclipse
Waiting for Uber until there’s no recourse
But to burn the bridges we ourselves had made
The Shaman sport of festive waiting
Along the margins of rebellion and sensuality
Where art is a life well spent, risks taken
Through rivers of blood, thirst and bruises
We remain true to our heart’s thwarted instincts
That dive into dopamine’s fiery embrace
Where time is obliterated in a seizure
Of all the passion we had saved
Where we wash ourselves with our own invisibility
To awake with skin as thirsty for summer
As the light of our planet’s parent sun
Who must feast on the idea of hunger
Waiting for the eclipse that ends all suffering.
Wuji Seshat 