Desire, the Leader

Dawn breaks, place around my neck a black cape. It's an escape to fantasy, away from blasphemous restraints. They say blasphemy is normalcy, but I just don't see. I see conveyor belt humans coming out straight for me. Coming out straight for me with their steel hearts and socialism. Existence is a prison, look, there's the bars that build it. The bars look like their hearts. Their hearts look like desire. The heart must confine us? "Desire is your leader, so be well on your way. We have no time to trust." His dreams collapse when the day ends. Weakened stilts, without vigor, and poorly built. Surely he can dream again? But no, he spends all his dreams on the daylight leaving him empty in the cold night. Oh look, there's dusk. The definition of fright.