Children living on a fountain city
forever young as the water washes
down marble grooves to its haunches
draining down throats and boulevards
nourishment to narcissus.
The structure looms unto the sky, and the spouts of liquid rescind,
cancelling progression of age, and the city permeates the same
no erosion to that great facade, remaining in its perfect state,
but no better than that, as it never ferments
a water but never the wine!
And they haven\'t the stories or the talent to tell them, living in a cesspool paradise
stagnating on innocence when the world would teach them otherwise-
forever engorged on a false pretense, living as like a mock heaven;
and then the fountain ceased flowing.