To the Broken Addicts in romantic disillusion, to the Dreamers down on their luck, to the Cathartic Poets who set new fashions, old fashions, or by the less, the bad fashions. To the Philosopher Thieves who come for bliss like Dream Snatchers, yet not withstanding Day Dreamers and Potato Peelers who work together in silent. To the Political Saboteurs stepping cautiously over discolored bricks; let me be the voice on the ledge of your sidewalk. Not exactly in the sewer. That would be weird, but perhaps as a Passing Bystander, a Concerned Citizen of sorts. One who backs you away with the lulling sounds of rhetoric. In a cooperative state we can randomly redefine our disillusions, maybe shake something loose, call ourselves better for it, or at best, refined addicts- on a socially acceptable level.