free

promise of a free

world.

after it takes every

cent it will be

free.

free to live in the warm embrace

of icy winters.

truly free

to fly among the other birds

and forgive those below.

challenge is

are you brave enough

to be alone.

walking with one shoe

and dropping the other

in the back of your mind,

if you choose to be,

brave.

given strength

can be taken away

unless you can walk

on your own.

I have to write.

I stare at this blank page

and it stares back

taunts me.

It feeds off me

like a leech it

feast on my fears for breakfast

and sips my anxiety like tea.

Never satisfied

until I write.

So here I sit

Staring through this open window

waiting for the magic.

From a home I can’t explain

neighbor of imagination

down the block from love

Or is it hate.

Next to the house that always cooks barbecue.

That smell that sweeps the block

through open windows

love hate relationship with your belly

as it fights for something more.

Yet, here I sit

waiting for the magic.

Watching this orange fuck

slowly crush our stars

gathering Universal’s Minions

calling himself Gru

wasting on a par 4

stealing candy from unborn babies

from the home that he

is burning to the ground.

Closing our window

after only a few months

He,

We.

Need to-

Look for the magic.

Gather fingertips

the window is still open

Jump.

Don’t fly

We still have to fight.

So

Here I stand.

Writing

silent page.

Starting at the open window.

Needing to make humans think

think twice

and tell them a lie

that this window

Will always be open.

carrying two pounds

of nothing.

swirling tightness clenching

the reason

choking

stealing

the life

of an angry child.

sit tight

will be here for a while

since we

we never learn

 

fit to fit in

is a privilege

noticed the door closed.

eyes dripping to the toes

nails melt around the knob

knees kiss the earth

trial of a turn.

fumbled away

the keys

the doorway

or a way back.

chasing a dream

a dream I had once

a dream of something

normal. The old normal.

A culdesac barbecue block party

with a domestic drink

and a domestic life.

This is different.

The smell of a culdesac

turns me vegan.

tops of children’s

just the blades

marched on towards the sun.

Messanger let them pass

let them pass

not an oar on their canoe.

perfect home

quiet

the end of the day

a cold one

and a beer.

Forsake the spire

look below

for guidance.

Sink

sink low

just a little

lower

and

you’ll find me