The earth, played out, seems forged with fear, <br />It bristles, stiffens, slowly fades <br />With introspection. Through the blear, <br />In our unease we move, bowed heads; <br />Eyes dare not catch the eyes in crowds. <br /> <br />Our long-filled faces, burrowed in <br />This stolid world of silence, ache. <br />A momentary smile may break, <br />So awkward, brief, merely polite, <br />When failing to avert our sight. <br /> <br />Mouths mime their cold songs. Drawing breath, <br />Lips scarcely move, then freeze to death <br />Again, as days assimilate <br />Our disbelief in any hope; <br />The obvolute, irresolute. <br /> <br />Born from inherent ignorance, <br />Preoccupied and paranoid, <br />Who eavesdrops far beyond the void? <br />Suspicions shall remain unhindered <br />As long the earth remains bewildered, <br /> <br />Listening for nothing... <br />Withdrawing to nothing...<br /><br />Neil Young<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rigor-mortis-2/
