the drums barrel down

shotgun

footsteps sliding around

an ice ring of empty shells

trace the mark they left behind

staring to long causes blindness

solar eclipse

walking around in stellar darkness

wine drunk

and we will stand

for those who’ve lost their feet.

Nor lost their way

along the snake way

buried in their ethics.

Not us.

We march

for those who’s hands have fallen

to their waist

and given up.

To those locked in cages

staring at the wings just in reach

It’s

It’s okay.

We March to forge greater steel

and we will build

a pound of an untamed beast

cold foreigner lounging in your lap

maybe three

and a night killing film.

 

they won’t hand them down.

the priceless notion of

self-indulgence

or self-pride

of a shiny nonce.

change, a few nickles a day

and I’ll change.

 

we celebrate the past

more then the future.

birthdays fill the calendar

along holidays we need to

Google, to know the origin.

why. why do we endulge in

rotten milk

and celebrate

now.

mansion sitting

alone

moving away

further

further away.

wind blows further

further

leaving strands

standing

alone sitting

with

a large door

and some walls.

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.