If life were
   understood
   completely
   we'd have nothing
   more to live for  
   being stultified
   and empty
   all wonder
   would have died

   no more teaching
   nor writing
   there's no need
   for reading or inventing
   superfluous is every thinking

   the morphing
   of  the intellect
   creativity in waning
   the self in annihilating
   and the dehumanising
   of every human undertaking

The clouds regurgitated  lightning
while booms reverberated
off the walls
Meanwhile I was feeling up my indifference
by holding a glass of soured milk and honey tasting like frustration that shattered from the pressures of despair