Freely gift me your focus,

all usurers and thieves.

We've all some paltry grievance

with how you waste the air you breathe.

There exist spider-silken threads -

inseverably interwoven,

sewn against rock.

Amalgamates,

bonded by an unflinching,

merciless spirit of Liberty -

freezing, hungry palisades erected.

Our enviable blood engenders

the mortar, weaponized,

as we violently manifest

a more verdant future that

would never bear this lifeless grey.

Rubble deconstructed of unceasing Sins,

we dance in the form of dolomite bones,

jubilant vibrations echo, deafening -

brace yourself and suffocate

against the terrible weight of

a million bloodless stones.