when loss of satisfaction
left us destitute and wild

in the savagery of youth we
opened up our eyes to that
which still remained–  

and paved a road to hell
that we refused to walk.

and joylessness became the song
we sang on lips, parched beneath the scorching sky.
thirst for breath not quenched by hours
turning like the past-time games

of memory and sand. in us
there lies a hymnal torn,
and pages of the detour drifting 
as we lead each other home
in vessels, wooden, lined with manufactured sin.   

- Joseph M. Gant