Re-examing, "Plight"

And Sisyphus pushed his rock

Uphill, in the toil and the draaaag-

  Drag-

Drudge

With tears in his flesh

screaming out their miseries

begging to be heard, to be healed, to be patched

in blood-

in sweat-

With the wine of a nation 

reamed of rotten grapes,

picked and stomped from the unripened vine 

molested by the beaks of 10 million savage crows

Seeping out his pores

And in mission, his body ached on

An eternity long

With gnarled bare feet

Twisted, tied, tangled

In sharp remnants of wilderness, that cut-

cut- 

carve -

into the crevices of feet and flesh and toes and soles

In passionless motions, meaningless in their sheer multitude 

With cold, fruitless efforts 

Of mundane nature

Devoid of significance, blank

Blank-

And Kafka portrayed you as a bachelor-

With freedom at your foreword,

but shackles at your feet

Trapped-

in the limitlessness of your "boundaries" ,

in the nonexistence of your "borders"

A self imagined incarceration 

Imprisoned-

in these,

 our beautiful  days of "us"

Bound, in a heaping hurt

your discontent, gnaws 

like glutinous rats trolling the streets of insatiable hedonism

Poor, glorious struggle of Sisyphus

       such painful contradiction

       such stifled restlessness

All bound up, wrapped tightly in the package
Of one

      "cursed" human being.