turns weak men into air

and the strong into puddles.

Jingled wraith stalks the poor

and kills the wise.

Straps of hair carpet

the floor and

cement the heel

buried two feet below

the Earth. She’ll be back

for the rest.

 

We worship thieves

that control the youth

that bends the land

to their will.

Oh, I can feel the temperature rising,

the henchmen burning

the truth,

I must be a hundred and nine.

The castle burns

around your original subjects

and the ashes fly

through the ghetto.

 

Shy eyes

and a smile

that could deactivate a bomb. 

Tracing a version

of herself

that she sees. 

Can’t continue

to watch and set

the bomb before

the day ends. 

They all can’t be winners. 

Wonder falls flat

chest above the nylon

sheets. 

They all can’t be winners. 

Tribute to the ones

that stayed

above waste level. 

Ride.

Ride fast and through

the seventh ring.

Ice Brutus’s stare

chases the bike as

he’s grounded up. 

Ride. 

Ride fast and through

the sixth ring. 

The parade starts and ends

on Mulan Boulevard.

Tribes painted blue and red

burn the flag before each meal.

The shadow

of the Candlestick

bares stripes 

across the orbital. 

Flame dancing 

to a hollow tune

and encouraged

by a dwarf draft

inching closer. 

Fickle fingers shine

lively dripping with

revolving cause in

the abandoned Theatre.

The dangling sheet

shifts

two steps north

to find footing

underneath Plum’s

wrath. 

Freezing tips of fine

knives peel my skin back

like a banana peel.

Dangling in Limbo

toes flying in comfort

of a home I once knew

cheeks plunging

deep into a shadow

pulling me deeper.

Breathing the darkness in

back of my throat

rushes down

swirls around the soul

and leaves before

my toes can touch

Earth.

I hear the call

day or night

mostly during the hail

I hear the call.

It comes and haunts me

like my shadow,

follows me around,

like a nightmare.

The ring and the voice

on the other line,

I hear the ring,

everywhere I go.