Russian Revolutions: Rasputin

Write it
write it all day long
press on, until those fingers bleed
and drop blood upon
keys of insatiable value
numeric
alpha transference
tic tac
tac tic
again and again
the strings glide on and timpanis shutter
the world of one
trying so hard to grab it
by the strings
of high note splendor
with the mustaches of Greek women in the night
filled with their Orthodox stuffing
catered to by rice
as the harpsichord plucks it's way
into fields with no dampers
no one wants that shit now
not even the orthodox soldiers
finding joy in the grip
of a different calender
time is something
we should
revel in
not
fight