The speaker describes a prison built from ugly materials: war, contempt and piss. It is a harsh, almost physical image of a state that runs on violence and disdain. The prison can take in "whatever disturbance the state troubles to eat," which suggests that dissent gets swallowed with little effort. The word "troubles" is dry and sarcastic, as if the state barely has to try.
Then the poem turns to sleep. In a dream the speaker sees "the whole people rising," a hopeful vision of mass revolt. But the last two lines pull the poem into something small and private: the speaker sees a person they once kissed, "again alone." The poem doesn't say exactly who this is or why they are alone, but the effect is aching. The mood moves from anger and bitterness to brief hope, then to loneliness. Judging by the title, the revolution may only exist in dreams, and the personal cost of the struggle is what stays with the speaker.