red clay beneath my nails
in the dry cracks of my wintered hands,
feels like I'm holding Georgia,

I hope they all grow strong.
I hope there are no "losers."
I hope there is a chance that I will get to see them grow older,

Is the future really a place of
concrete skies, brittle streets, and Wallstreet highs,
or can I just make my nest up in the mighty giant?

Flesh and bone atone
You are the soul slayer
I yearn to be all things
Open my eyes and truly see
My body but transportation
A figment of creation and imagination
Underneath this flesh there is knowledge
That shall bear fruit and flower
I am growing, I am a shoot
I am air and water and earth and tree
I am honey bee
I am bird

**

I am free

i'm not speaking of concrete skies
brittle streets
or wallstreet highs

working
working
working
working
working
working
working
working
w­orking
working
working
working
working
working
working
working
wo­rking
working
working
working
working