Writing, Ideas, & Stories
in the highest coop
waiting;
not for a court date
egg to hatch
or a the crosshair to bleed red,
for the wind to shift.
for the softest landing around our ankles,
it wasn’t a ruling
a spoiled omlet
or an assassination,
a request to breathe.
so we wait,
in this coop,
for the wind to shift.
it’s the nothing that scares me;
black voids
a space between nowhere
and a place that use to exist,
like a city forgotten by google maps
that place.
haunted by regret
sorrow
and a memory of existing,
it’s that place
that place keeps me up at night-
once littered with treasure
stripped clean like a harvest.
never a dull moment
words all frozen
runnin’ from the moment
never wanted to be your opponent.
but here we are;
windows wide open
fear holding the keys-
back when we were smokin’
loud world at ease- please
such a simple notion
being overseas
copin’ with a potion.
nothing but a busboy
singin’ sad songs on the arroyo
just need to be the best boy
shoyo
Saint's Muse 