Flies Flourish Under Starving Eyelids Poem by Mark Heathcote

tears are rivers of blood
in the apathy of love.
Where silver-and-gold flows
into the margins of hate.
A million bullion graves are dug
to disguise their own fatigue
the starving shout-out 'Food.'
Tears are rivers of blood
in the apathy of love.

Where-flies-flourish under starving eyelids
oh, how this apathy breeds
and soaks the ground
with their own neglectful disease
while the tears of a thousand nation's weep
and then close their eyes
in an ever-present sleepwalk
wondering who will blink first?
Who first will capitalise?