What crime committed here,
an octave above your displeasure,
a fool left in his leisure.
The swelter how it traveled,
in this concrete desert of refutes,
heating my glass caging.
And me elevated above demolition,
these ruins of metropolis burning,
my coals cinerated patience.
I force my generator to power,
my fuses blown by audiences’ voltages,
wavelengths of static minds
This poem can be read on poetry.com-http://poetry.com/poems/272090