Living in my mind
flying high
free of life
please line me down

Chain me down toward the ground
Force me to be earthbound
Strip me of my thought
Lace me with thorn cots

Death won't hit you
like a truck
or
like a blade
Death is a gas
that you slowly
inhale

Vicious with his knives
Sneaks up behind his victims
Slices them with a smile

And all the while they whine
Vicious shines a light
Illuminating the Divine

For which all of his crimes
Add up in the sky
As the government lies

And the homeless do not mind
They're busy picking up grime
And so Vicious must oblige

Pointing to the high
Who clearly can't divide
And the fire is nigh

Open mouth singing
in your diamond shirt
embroidered with collectibles
of smiles and laughters
that you gathered that
day on the beach

Spellbound dreams
that you carry
in a silver faded necklace
carved with the initials
of all the constellations
you can point to

Wheatfield sun
dancing upon your
golden hair
of rainbow flowers too
you move the wind
and mother earth dances with

Who are you going to be when you die?
There are so many options that didn't exist when you were alive

Will you become a skeleton?
A solid reminder of your past;
trapped underneath the cavern of your death
but accepting the truth of pure night.

Will you become a ghost?
Haunting your place of resting
forever remaining where your heart is;
sleeping with both eyes open

Will you become a zombie?
such a restlessness you carry,
no elegance to the stars above you;
you struggle against the blanket tucking you in

When I traverse the lowest valleys
and climb the highest peaks
I break forth my journal
my pencil and I feel

In the dark, it lights a path
in the light, it bursts the dark
though I must admit I write the most
when I'm in the dumps

I spit onto pages
venomous oceans of blue and black ink
in life, I've no way of reaching him
or is it for a person, a concept, or a thing?

Will pretty eyes mind poetry?
Or is that something misperceived?
Am I only screaming at dead trees
for the rest of my life; for eternity?