A minimizing effect of the totalizing reality,
A hand burnt in the sun, jarred with the possibility of a shoe polish.
Constant pull and push culminated in a commodity,
Of labour, of exchange, and mythical historicity.
Sweat piercing the skin in the brightly lit sunlight,
Slowly becomes a tear colluding vision,
As the motion accelerates, so is the vision furthered
It is not me, you but the general whole
It’s not even a conspiracy, or a tragedy, but the reality
A design, a designation of unequal equals
The shoe had to shine,
And he had to polish, though he could,
Do the other as well.
Each grotesque act had its own music;
And the end,
Was a congregation of magnificent discordance?