Its sick, I remember it

perfectly.

There was a moment in time when the fear let itself dissolve into my nostrils and her

hands laced in gauze gloves,
injured boxer,
beautiful daughter

and the light gleamed and glistened off of every glass plate,
fractals of xanax bliss flicking themselves on to a filthy rug

and the line thinned itself out,
the lines thickened as it thinned itself out

school busses found themselves in parking lots and
some found themselves sold to private owners and some

drove themselves to our madness.

Sad clown cries tears while he laughs
she gave us our pills for free.

and one morning her daughter awoke,

*third grade called her daughter to wake up early and dress herself for the occasion, as she was only in third grade and couldnt drive,

she went to wake her mother,

and the sad clown dried her tears on the executioners
pillow.

Fell Asleep With Too Many In Her

We spent a few weeks on our knees,
searching filthy rugs for fractals of xanax bliss.

One night I realized what I was doing.

Its sick.

I remember it perfectly.

I once dreamt

Of a child beneath a tree, in a field off the edge of a small farm.
Small farm that owned large landscapes, and passing by through the freeway were the sad broken horses. All the beasts of burden that were more burden than beast, and they dribbled blood from their noses and they limped when they strolled.

They passed in one lane, while the cars passed in another. Fast ferraris and hot wheel model look alikes. Breezing by barnyards and dead horses trying to live with blinders on the corners of their eyes.

This little boy sat resting under a large tree, filling his lungs with horse heaves. On the side of a road looking out across the fence that separated his land and his curiosity.

And I couldnt find myself in the dream, I was nowhere. Floating as a molecule of oxygen, painting the scenic ocean of grain and land, exhausted by the proud sun ray filling the eyes of a boy under a tree. And I continued to wonder how long the boy would sit. If he would stand and run and fly away in to the sunset, into the moon setting, before the land was dark and crisp in its perfect way.

Never once did I wonder why the moon was dissappearing with the fog of the sunlight. And why the stars would not shine here on these never ending hooves, on these tire treads bleeding steam into the air.

A leaf drifted onto the boys lap and i found myself, watching the sound of the wind pull moonlit tides of grass and grain towards the boy. The sunlight placed it's fingers on his tears and dried them, wiping them away.

It was then I saw, this boy was blind. My final moments as the leaf in the wind, falling by the side of a boy. Then falling on his shoulder, and i witnessed death through thousands of green soldiers, rustling through the static of the air and closing their eyes on the floor.

The horses still clopping out of tune. The cars not slowing down. It would be pitch black soon. And I'd come to realize this boy, through collective images of falling friends, drifting deadmen.  Like a puzzle, I saw, he was lost. And could not find his home. The sounds betrayed his ears, and the pitch black was not silent, as the last bit of light sunk away beyond the horizon.

He was here, in tattered rags, his eyes were blind and he could not hear past the road. The sun and moon would burn his tears away, but in the dark his eyes would water the roots, his skin would tear and become the bark. He could never go home, but he would always be needed.

My eyes closed in the dark, his eyes remained open all the time. Somehow, I found we were both lost.

I was the wind, and he was the earth.

A lounge singer came across the water for me,
His shoeshine and perfect polish.
And the light only made sense to direct attention to the ripples in the water.

So, he came forward,
Opened his mouth and belted rotten,
Beautiful tufts of ulra-violet sound.

The lake seemed to caress the ivory echos of his voice,
Each note executed precisely,
Each page full of half notes on behalf of the executioner.
-P.S.

My
My
My
A girl like you


A woman for me


A woman like you


Someone who knows she is


A woman like you




And I wonder how


How
How


You could be here.


Now now now


It's really you


And her here here


It's never you


When you know im looking for something real










It's her I'm looking at. Finding imprints of loving acts in infinitesimal moments
I melt into you like I can't describe how


How


Who you are to me.


Here


Here


Her presence moves.


She moved


Moves. Me.


I write some small sentence to try and rally the passion inspired by her


But I can't find


Lose sight


No more…


I can't forget you and move on




What do you do in all I am


Just the two of us


And I bleed why I can't let you go


Because I'm here for you, baby


Please


Let me unfurl ..


I'm always here right next to you
Forever wherever we go

these bones are twisting
underneath the
  last bit of breath.

                 anxious panics and patented problems,
we created.

     and the lost souls arent really lost.
they just got there before us,
                                                    we dont even know whats out there.


The Problem is that we havent figured out how to get away from this sentiment. that were so human, and yet, we arent.

human is such a vague term.
it exists for all of our physical properties
that allow for mental turmoil and confusion.


                 i think if it were up to me,
                 i wouldnt be happy but id be less insecure,
                 id count my blessings and live right now
          but i guess,
                 i could do that now.

Being Young Is Such A Luxury.
-P.S.

Three days ago I found my sunlight peeking through a crack on the back of a rusted dumpster. My body, forced into it by people unwilling to give me a second chance.


It was blistering cold and the wind cut like snowflake diamonds zipping all around. I remember I was walking home thinking “maybe this is all I have left to give”


So two days ago I decided I'd let that dumpster bright ray of sunshine go. If my only good moments were covered in filth, I'd rather just let them go.


My thoughts raced on what was ahead of me. A millennia of starscreams opening across the galaxy as my silhouette becomes the shadow of a dwarf.


I know I'll miss the sunlight though...and even through cracks in rust I think my sunlight might someday become platinum.


Yesterday I met a face that felt like hot shadows. She sung catapults of fire in my mind. I saw her on the stage at a local cafe, strumming demons away from my side. Her fingers bleeding sunshine through her fingertips. Dipped in ridges and vibration.


I found a fool's worth of hope in the skyline and lost a lifetimes worth on wishing.

Every day the sun shines brighter as I open my eyes wider and start to breath deeper. The sun starts to rise and like Superman in the midst of death, raises his glass to the shimmer of the valiant sunlight and is invincible yet again.
I feel the death peeling itself from my body and I'm ready now to travel.

The bones shiver restless notes from xylophone keys that keep me running to an unheard harmony in the grace of the bluest wind. Something is carried on the feathers of the geese and its the blood of the wicked innocent. I don't run with them because of the migration. I don't run with them at all.

I've felt the blood drop like rain from their wings as they pass and they've left the trail wide and open. If destiny dripped dismal disappointment on you, would you follow it?  No. But it's destiny, and if it leaves in the hands of bandits and marauders then perhaps a bullet hole is my destiny.

A bullet hole big enough to stuff back the tyranny of a fallen harp and all the sorrow of its broken chords. Ill take it, Destiny.

Destiny like a cruel caw from the crow. I'm here,
Elate me with your dreary melody!

I'm not running from the satin blood red,
Not anymore.

I'm running towards the weeping needy,
I'm running towards the ***** and dead,

If destiny cried havoc,
Then I'm running to let slip the dogs of war.

I just want to be cut on the mouth

Color crimson my words as they slither from me

I only really want to go away

The silver shorelinings break waves of thunder against the sand.
An electric ocean pulling me with its magnetic current.

Mountains in Mumbai and bellowing valleys in the Chilean drop.
Scattered soles, cloned from mud and dirt and snow prints.

India bubbles and burns and
Spain tramples my chest.

Italy wavers voices of the ghosts of the canals.

My soul is burning for the countryside and the delicate embrace of my mother earth.
I can feel the sunset whispering my bones into full sprint.
-P.S.

I'm realizing these things I do that aren't so ideal. I know I keep making mistakes but my lord do I love you.
The sun couldn't shine bright enough on anything you do, no moment could match the ones I've known with you.

I know I fidget and forget that my best friend comes first, I shouldn't let it slip my mind that you've been here for years helping me through all kinds of darknesses. I live in loving memories of dim light and music making warm close bodies blush and breath. Forcing warm close hearts to rush and beat.

My heart aches, Its not that I can't find the words, its simply that with you, I fail the english language. I don't know how to describe that I yearn, that for so long I'd wanted your heart to want mine and I find.

I find you've wanted all along. If there is one thing I've forgotten, its that I am supposed to protect your smile. I am supposed to be the warrior of light waning darkness from your heart.
You and I have ink resembling lifetimes in mortality, etched on skin, engraved on bones. If I continue to make these mistakes, I will make you regret your own skin.

I'm sorry isn't enough, I've heard less words say more.
Ill show you what you mean to me.
Ill prove my apology.

How do you find me in these places?
Lost in my paradises where I'm never seen.

You follow me into the rabbit hole of my daydreams and
Fall with me into the arms of tragedy,
Into the arms of Gods caressing the mortal souls of Human lovers.

I'd take you anywhere,

We blink and open our eyes to the ocean around us. The sails pregnant with the gust of lovers lost. We stare out into the vast open and never cringe,
Not while our fingers cross,
Not while we travel vast and open together.

We could get lost,

Dive into the ocean and freefall to the bottom,
Physics simmer away as we float towards the center of the earth.
I hold you close as the light guides us into the abyss.

And we could aways come back,

Clasped so close as we slide upon the tectonic embrace of mother earth.
The magma heart swallows us whole,
And all there is is light,
And all I hear is your voice.
I walk towards the light and look out at the world from the knothole of a tall, proud oak.

I saw you climbing the limbs,
I watched in awe. How you shocked me.

One step ahead, even in dreams.
How do you find me in these places?

Everything in the mind of the shallow is vanished in the eyes of hollow halls. That we could not live to see the sunlight, that we lost ourselves in an empty truth.

We were always broken, and we were never cured.

Because we hurt ourselves, and because we never listened.
I was always here.

But it was not my home.
And forever as the rainbows,
and relenting as the ice.

I stood by this place.
A giant with the smallest eyes.

I remember the blood in the river, the water diluted.

I was no man, in my hours here.
The sunset held me,
in my crimson waves.

The love that you had set me back for days.
And the lord spoke through me,
as I pushed him away.

I dont remember when my eyes went black.
I dont remember the seconds in the ambulance.
I dont remember holding hands with golden girls who wanted to dance.

And the lights here beamed white,
in the golden arch of the pale bright moon.

You started fires, and the embers scattered,
and the coals got wet, and space was born.

But I didnt belong,
so I tried to leave.
And the lord spoke through me,
As I pushed him away.
-P.S.

I take a drag from the last cigarette of the night,
tilt my head back as I stare up at the lightning.

Exhale.

As the smoke smooths past my lips I watch it drift into the still air.

The light catches it in the shadows as it reveals the outlines of a literal nothingness.
The moment fades as the smoke does.

The clouds exchange conversations.

The boom of thunder rolls over the treetops.

The cherry drips silky whisps of calligraphy.
Writing love letters to the oxygen as it diffuses slowly in to the dark.

My lungs ache for the softest part of a warm,
brown filter.
My lips caress it and as it slips away from my face I chase it down with more smoke.

Exhale.

Two bolts of stormy glory let it live on in a particular millisecond in time before it dies out in the night.

I smoke the nights last cigarette and reach away from the world with rock climbers fingers.
Digging in to the cracks of a wall made from oxygen and carbon dioxide.

Exhale.
-P.S.

Touch the light,
How it shivers.

How it opens, frayed on the edges,
Afraid of itself.

The drawbridge is never open,
No map to find peace.

No treasure hunters paradise in my memories.

I find the walkway eluding me.
Find it at the other end of the sidewalk,
The end that's just begun.

And I've made my peace with no one.

God,
Dear Lord,
Save My Soul.

For it has been blackened by my tormentor.

It's not something in the way you move. If i didn't know what it was, I'd feel silly.
It's everything in the way you strut for me, that walk along the tree roots that finds its way glancing back at me over shy shoulders.

I find it in the way you talk to me, reminding me I mean something to someone who speaks with the subtlety of a star. Muffled in soft lamp light.

I think it's always been in the way you sing, and how you send subtle vibrations through the air to become one with the reverb from guitar strings.
The way you make fine lines dissappear and melt into me, the way your angel kissed fingertips glaze my skin with touching lullabies.

It must be in your toes, that glide over my shins under warm blankets.
It's in between us, when we lie so close, not something that holds us apart but a warm magnet that pulls our heart beats closer to sync.

It's got to be in the way you laugh, that makes me laugh.
And of course it's in the way we laugh together.

It's in the soft giggles of rainy Sunday mornings, opening my eyes to your glow.
It's in the way sun light kisses your skin, and the way moonlight kisses your soul and lights you up.

Goose,
It's not just "something" in the way you move. It's all those pretty details in the way we hold each other, that pulls passion from patchwork memories and interwoven breaths.
It's in the way we hold each other, that makes it feel like our heart beats are trading stories with each other, matching tempos and beating reverie from our thoughts to our lips.

I know what it is. And I've only tipped the iceberg.
It's in the secrets we share,
That are always there.
Like our favorite stars,
Always and Forever.

What did words look like before poetry…
They felt effortless, like none of them had points and sharp edges that hurt

None lost themselves inside of me, buried in the deep hollows spreading from my feet to my shadow.

What did anything look like before poetry?

It was beautiful, passing and fleeting and instant and beautiful…
Now its still beautiful but I cant seem to capture it…

Before it was as easy as a picture…
But now each image sits in my mind, replaced by letters and words and the imagination makes dull grey pages of black print out of blue and white mountain peaks, shimmering frosty snow glinting with the sun the snowflakes catch on their tongues. Nothing looks like this anymore...because it needs to be words.

I want to look at my pages and see portraits painted with loving hands, tortured and weak and passionate.

I want to hear that acoustic guitar, those nylon strings plucking upbeat and fast, strumming to a spanish melody trying to cover a southern diddy slathered in bongos and an old voice singing hard to here comes the sun, cause its alright!!

But big fingers slip so callously over pen smudges in notebooks. I instead focus on the smudges. My eyes drawn to what I can only grasp when theyre closed. Ears hearing sounds Ive lost inside the pages.

What did words look like before poetry?

They werent...they didnt.

I wonder what it takes to be consistent. If its a struggle against the outside world, to hold yourself inside and press against the preserved lines of your holy self.

I wonder how happiness is like us, made a fool of in time. And if the bible holds secrets beyond what we understand.

And if it stood for religion, I wonder again what kind. If it was a religion of nature, of empowerment. To give ourselves the notion of identity, or to give us a sanctity on earth, of earth.

If its so, if there is no higher power above circumstance, then I certainly am mistaken.

Love,
My love lost in tangles.
My lover lost in tangles the wind pushes and pulls,
silk ribbons scarved around metal fence posts.

Carved around sentimental friend posts,
Computer monitor halitosis,
Curvaceous moments leave you hopeless.

Hopeless in the deep end and you drown,
but love,
Lost in angles.
Lost in traditional hang-ups and
Lost on a particular campus.

Divide the mental anguish,
Stand by and maybe hand this,
back to me

I might reciprocate and
Debilitate and the modesty wont
Depreciate as you make your,
point.

Stand by me,
Look lackluster at the edges of
perennial views.

Stand by me,
Walk me down the marital isle of
your perpetual bad news.

-P.S.

It isn't a longing for moments anymore.
It's a longing for skin.
The way the cells embrace,
the way lips long for lips.

Hands to be locked.
These palms for you to read.
This face a desert
In need of your rejuvenation

The way fingertips long for flesh
To manifest goosebumps
To traverse the back of your rib cage
With both hands.

The way the air longs for whispers
In the dark where moans live
Vocal chords for ecstasy
The way love longs to be heard

I hear you.

I want to write this letter to the being who finds my soul in the next dimension.
I want to ask you not to judge my whispy floating energy orb
Not to leave me at the cosmic stoop once you see my weakness untethered.

In the physical form, they dont tell you what youll carry. How the people who have held your hand and the ones whove smacked it away will change you.
You find most people in the middle of their own battles, and you sink into them if they allow it…
And they never tell you how this merge will change you.

Do you find this little soul so disgusting? Because Im starting to change my mind about it after all…see, these bodies are more than vessels. I want you to look carefully at the soul in front of you. Each mistake like a solar flare, erupting on the surface trying to escape. Each regret burning to get out.

My little soul cant wait to rid itself of all the things Ive known.  
But its funny, the hurt others can inflict on you makes you more...you

And your soul follows after its pain,

follows for something to let it know theres more than this

Do you see my little soul here?
Bright as any sun in the drifting wide sea.
Full as the vastness of us all.

My little soul may not be as hollow as my little heart. My body lies away and away and here is this soul,
This soul for you now that is full of more passion than the cosmos could take from it.
Erupt this soul, burst it in to the open and watch what wonders I know.
Dont take this little soul for what you see,
For inside there are mistakes fighting to get away, being burned into fuel by a soul who has taken so much and will take no more.

My little soul...this verse is for you.
Because for you the only thing now is eternity.
Until my eyes close and the dirt rains down, all i will have is my memories.
Bound by trusted hands, bloodied by lovers,
Touched by the unfeeling, felt by those who felt too much.  
You will not carry these burdens with you…

But neither will I. This verse is to remind you that I am only a person,
But inside me is burden, purposed with desire and coupled with passion.  

Dont judge my little soul for what it looks like. Because its nothing like me.

I sat in the backseat of a car with time slowed down around me, I looked at the trees passing by,
Outside the windows I watched the rolling landscape swirl by. Winding away into the mist of vision, like paint stained water down the drain.

Little birds chirped when we got home, their sounds slipped away on the wind and were replaced with squeals, with screeches and cries.
Inside I heard the walls creek and moan, fingers digging through the wallpaper, clawing through plaster and hard wood.
Hands, reaching out to pull me away, and I ran.
I ran through my home, it was not mine anymore. I could feel it.

The bushes outside of my home, on either end of my lawn blazed violently.
The trees shed their leaves, draped in snakes chanting hymnals backwards in dead languages.
The birds suicide bombed my home.

Inside I saw through the windows, the world consumed in red. The sun, a fragment of the rage I felt consuming me.
My fingers could taste the light, my fingertips felt the red dawn through the vines outside of my home,
Scurrying down rabbit holes and scattering dead easter on the lawn.
I saw my distorted reflection in the mirror.

I felt the burning in my body, the burning from my skull,
My palms bled,
My eyes bled,

My body was another form, a powerful beast in control of the sky.
I heard the fragments of red planets falling on the human horizon.
I felt the souls of wretched divinity failing and falling and flailing in the fires.

I was the daytime,
And the night,
I was the beginning,
And no end,

My name was all,
My name was yours.

We were fire,
And brimstone,
We were damnation.

I would **** you.

I keep drifting in and out of my own designs…
watching the world change through all these perspectives,
eyes Ive made up on my own.

each stanza
line
half
full
measure

for all the sounds i hear with different ears, youd think it would be madness.

No, Ive simply been enjoying the pleasure of my creativity.

though i suppose ive been lost somewhat
falling to reality and wondering when ill
come back to visit

I dont live in lies, I write them.
But I live to write…
what does that say about me.
-F.M.

Dearest Darling,

The lights are awake, Love. Each one dancing around the sky, falling, burning,
Dancing in the firepit.

For you, the lights are awake, My Love. Chanting with their high pitched hum. Using rays of light to strum harpchord lullabies. And they do it for you.

They do it for you because I sent them, I wanted to see a beauty so fitting yours. I wanted to tell the world through impossible means that Angels don't fall, they are born.

And I wonder...

Had you fall'n, I'd have been there. Within moments of hearing Hell try to breath you through the dirt, I'd have been there. Reaching for your immortal soul, to save and cherish.

And in the hours spent wrapped up in each other, I'd have loved an Angel. I'd have seen the wings and how they glide, I'd have found myself understand how one could be so lost.

Lost in love,
Lost in mind.

Dearest Darling,

My heart races daily, when I see you again. My fingers find a pen and write to you, to tell you of all the ways you ravish me. How you conquer me, how I'm lost to you because I've not given my heart to wandering women...its been given to my Goddess. My Lover in the clouds who shades me from the sun.
I write words for you with the stars, that if you ever go back home,
You may use them as guides.

And when you've made your home again, up in the embrace of a cloud with my touch.

I hope you find yourself reading them,
Those starlight sonatas I've composed for you.
I hope you find yourself remembering me, My Immortal Beloved.

I'm trying not to,
lately it feels like there's not much else.

I'm fighting the idea of it,
just in the hopes that something good comes later.

Reminding myself that,
you have to work for good things.

But also how tired I am,
something I feel in the core of me.

I don't want things to get worse,
but I can't seem to make them better.

I don't want this my whole life,
but I can't seem to escape the feeling.

I don't want to fight,
I just want to be closer.

Maybe I'm bad at everything,
and maybe believing that makes it true.

I'm trying not to,
Lately it just feels like there's not much else.

Taste the sun with your sweat today.
And as each ray clamors upon your despondent soul, allow your body to take in air.

Remember that the language you lost is as much the sweat on your skin as it is the soul inside you.

No te olvidas de las palabras de tus padres.

Recuérdate que tus memorias son flores en tu árbol.

As those soft black petals patter onto the dirt at your roots, you realize that good or bad, they dissolve into the soil and come back to you again.  

Si quieres, juntate con todo el muerto que no conoces.

En esta tierra tuya, no puedes correr sin llegar aquí otra vez.

Because you can't run away from yourself. Because your legs are stumps, rooted toes embedded in the present. But your body bends with the wind and your leaves grow brown.

Here, everything becomes an extension of you, cada hoja que cae, cada pétalo *****,
The sweat in the sun, the stomach you hate.

The memories that remind you why.

Son sólo extensiones de tu cuerpo, de ti mismo.

Sun beam, set upon your skin and balancing on the edge of your smile.

You're a sun beam. We've gone so many new places together, I've seen things I've always wanted to,
Held hands in moments I never thought I'd live.
Youve brought light to midnight walks in the stars. Made stars luminous.

You're courage, coursing through me.
You are lightning in my lungs when I need to be louder,
Thunder in my heart when my body can't move faster,
Each new adventure winds itself through mountain paths and forest trails,
Stepping over the limbs of giant oaks, lifting us up to the sun so that you might become radiance at the tree peaks.

Noni,
We may not spend every moment touching wingtips with cloud bursts.
We can't afford to take vacations every few months,
It'll be a long time before we get to start traveling the world together.

Yet somehow you've taken me so many places.
Let lips act as a full gas tank and taken me over the moon on just one breath.

You've made mountains crumble back into the molehills I made them out of.

I've seen the ridge above the clouds, the sun breaking down to reveal itself to the earth.
Ive seen lightning strike the mountain side and fire in the forest.
I've made runs down green flowing hills, grass moving like ocean waves with the cool rolling winds.

I've done all this from my bed, each trip a moment I'm stuck by your side
Giving kisses to the skin on your stomach,
Raising little hairs on your forearm as our hands slide past each other.

I've never known paradise, but I've known an oasis with you.

You're a Sunbeam, and in my tiny shriveled patch of dirt, you're the rain.

Here you've planted yourself and grown in me.
You're the new places I want to go, and the new places I'll never be.

Youve seen all the versions of me and somehow shine light on the best parts of each…

Sun beam, set upon my skin and the reason behind every one of my smiles.

Happy anniversary. It hasn't been the easiest 3 years...but the best part about you is that you didn't want easy. You wanted love. And you've taught me how stubborn you have to be to love someone with all your heart. To love someone so much that looking at them makes you feel brand new. Blessed. Lighter and faster and stronger and brave.

Happy anniversary. To my one and only. To the one I'll be stubborn for,
To the one I'll fall over for,
To the one I'll be here for.

I love you. My sun beam. My silly goose. My baby girl.

I love you, and there's no way I'll let another year pass without you by my side. Without you in my life.

I've lost time counting headlights and lamplights and streetlights and stars. I've literally lost time. Each day I wake up, and watch the evening drift by in a sunset, I fall asleep and watch the moonlight sail away on a sunrise.


It was an empty promise, these lights all around. It was an empty promise, that buzzed with the current a few thousand volts. Lights...pale and broken bulbs bleeding gasses and lies. But I guess in the dishonesty of some idea so pure, I found the dream that Teslas lightning tipped fingers yearned for,


A quest of solid gold that conducted an orchestra of thunder. And so lights couldn't be a lie anymore,


They could only be a dream, a dream never fully realized so long as the frozen dead fingers of liars past held their grip. Edisons overgrown yellow tinged finger nails, piercing through the veil of misty electric sparks,


Yet here i am


The light bulb is over MY head now! And my brainstorm is an F4 hurricane, my bolts like guillotines for your greedy fingers!


Because this is the generation of new light, of new thunder and new mayhem.
Of illumination!


A new generation carrying torches, casting out our light bulbs and our lamp posts. Forcing fire into Mason jars and using flames like they were new again.


No no no
…
Not Mason jars. Pull those ******* light bulbs from the headlights and lamplights and streetlights, fill those ******* with gunpowder and unstable explosive mixtures and make stars, *******!


Make flames that burn brighter than Edison's unholy lies, that tear down the dome and bring the skies falling!


Watch everything we've built, watch corruption and lies and racism and false superiority come hissing out of the cracks, trying to save themselves from the building pressure,


Trying to claw their red boney fingers from the fire but they can't. Because they are the fire,


And we will all watch as they burn like they always wanted to. Their voices shining past all of the glory their burning visage may grant, their bodies becoming one with the chaos that is our country.


And then we will have nothing left but ashes. No more eagles. Only the right and left wings of a Phoenix,


Risen from our ash and tears, flying into the sky to become the sun...To shine like nothing ever seen by our eyes so used to a false light.


Because it's time we became the sun. It's time we chose a real light to follow, not a halogen tube spewing gas over sickly bodies. No more light bulbs to only last a few weeks. Were tired of artificial light...Tired of breathing oxygen made in a lab…


Maybe it's because we've lost so much time under buzzing broken bulbs, under boot heels and tyrannical ideation. We've lost so much time staring into TV lights and camera flashes that we've only been able to wait for someone real to step into frame...


We've lost so much time counting headlights and lamplights and streetlights and stars. Counting the minutes till a new hero appears...I'm ready to be the light.