I suppose that happiness is provided
by the tangled weeping we must do.
To satisfy our hunger for fantasies
Our piercing wounds must be tangled
with the ropes of wondering desires.
I have an obligation to pursue
the activity of the animals in the zoo
Which I suppose might define us
in terms of how little caring we do
Odd that every point of view
must be crushed aside to be true.
Laughter pursues our ambitions
as we meekly meditate our situation
Our game is full and highly done
Every moment is truly most wasted
so that our only hope is to respond
in tones of black and white relief
Alas, there seems no point in happiness
if every evil is so well provided