Indian summer first beheld your red-gold crown 'n tiny fists that grasped too soon the lay of broken lands you had no desire to rule or choice but to traverse In spite of your directional disfunctionality you navigated the wastelands came out the other side unscathed to the naked eye Falling all over yourself to fit in you kept your head down nose in books ducked the troubles that plagued kith and kin found yourself lost in your own Wintered a while in discontent seething but...
Dark liquid indifferently sitting in the well the knife that shaves the quill which scratches tissue papered surface I can't fit in deep lines forever enjambed stopping and stuttering then flowing Off the page
The value of free speech is whatever the market is willing to bear branding and packaging can make or break a product know your demographic because if it doesn't sell you will have to eat the cost unless it's just a loss leader to get suckers in the door
Stood in her favorite spot in a rainstorm holding a wake of one wondered if that's all there is to mothers and daughters broke out the booze but the balls were still in the air ashes juggled in tiny matching urns sealed in tissue velvet and bubbles then scattered dancing over asphalt until she finally arrives singing a final dry mouthed verse
You come onto their turf you best come ready for a beat down They don't steal your lunch money they pin shame on your shirt and send you home hungry They don't slam you into the lockers they body slam you onto the floor and/or lock you up You wearin' the wrong color you best keep nice and quiet or they label you violent 'Less they slap a jersey on your back then they let you bash your own brains out Make no mistake for six+ hours a day they own your ass Which you best keep covered in "appropriate"...
Your hammer strikes blows meant to fix frame in place silver backed glass set aside packed between less breakable materials taken out in turn carefully hung spare a moment to reflect on the job you've done pack up your tools slip an unsigned check in your pocket leave precious metal staring onto an empty room
I've stopped picking up your pieces Left your ragged edges to lie on their own Some day, I swear, I'll toss the box with its pretty picture into the recycle bin just to hear you one last time rattle about how you're never done
We speed down this highway ignoring the signs but enjoying the neon vacancy a place to rest our heads, eyes glossing over fine print lines on the way to magic fingers beds we don't have to make just lie in try to remember to leave a tip turn off the water on the way out
Shit I can't publish shit I can't post shit that hits you where it hurts me the most Fuck your fawning fuck your praise fuck you in so many ways I can't translate your shit these days Damn you and your wicked words damn the fucking learning curve damn it cram it shove it all in and take it take it take it BACK
I did not want to see you here in this place that burns you like electricity from the inside out I see the proof in your dancing fingers watch you poised to dive in want to shout It's a mirage there's no water in this pool only lightning waiting for you to strike again