i freeze at the sight of hollow eyes

in heads drained of thought or color

blank of magic or human passion

they're burnt-out lighthouses 

casting empty shadows

across the surface of hollow eyes

hollow-heads filed with dread

feign on strength backed by cold stares

then rage behind dead drugs

daring to numb dumb-feelings already dead

they motor-mouth their limbs like depressed robots

smothered in green-backs vomiting over themselves

i wail but my tears fall dry 'pon barren soil

where hope might bring forth some change

but their eyes see only green

and envy's greedy urge strains their hands

what will scour the sockets of these living-dead

or break the crust encasing their primal needs?

*Freedom is my attempt to be true to the self that is me at this moment in my life, in the circumstances that I find myself.

*Reflections of Jean Sulivan:

  -Believers who are mystics have always been a lower race, repressed for a long time.  Such confidence, and obedience not necessarily passive, is the path of a very different race of people who are in touch with the absolute.  They are usually people of silence, without necessarily being quiet. They show a certain healthiness, a disinterest in religious and doctrinal abstractions that will save them.  They start off in the right direction.  It seems to be enough for them to believe without too many illusions in the spiritual experience of their Church.  Although they've never had an interior illumination, a loving faith is at the center of their life.

  -...in a society that is out of joint and has no direct spiritual experience, the credibility of the Christian disappears.

  -Pity is appropriate for dealing with individuals, not situations.