he falls into the fray
letting the last breath escape
his lungs
even the weight of his body leaves him
in the ether of smoke
summoned from violent escalation
where a backyard became a battlefield
and his shadow - loyal like a disciple
was the first to leave
and now he's in the presence
of some otherworldly thing

"what are you?" he cries in the clutches of defeat
it can't answer in words or gestures
he raises the same hands
which could build homes inside hearts
parched voice pleading, "I've lost everything"

his wants and desires are like stomachs
which cannot accept the notion of hunger
he falls to the floor waiting for death
or something like it to wash over him

yet this thing speaks to him
not in words or actions
but it communicates
he lifts his face with mustered strength
knowing everything that went wrong
cannot be changed
but change is not beholden
to the past tense

his eyes blink rapidly in
the wake of adjustment
sensing some light so soft
it could be a secret
telling the smoke
it's time to leave

the turn signal forgets its duty
withdraws the promise of passing
making new rules in an ocean
of pavement and speed limits

where workers claim their land
with reduced lanes and inconvenient hours
their camaraderie drowns out the disappointment
of drivers who left their homes too late
dragging their shadows to
what must be indecent times
in the work space

they slow their speed to a whisper
and attack the horn like a beast
upon its prey
reveling in the language of anger
charged with excessive fury
raising a sermon to command people
who cannot hear the voices
too small to leave the confinement
of their vehicles

all these good times
stretched thin between quotations
broad activity
soon to be branded
by nostalgia

facets of frustration
can carry different weight
depending on how much concern
is thrown at that piece of hair
which refuses to stay down
or those tears you wish
you hadn't seen

a look in the mirror
where you accidentally catch
a glimpse of who you'll grow up
to be
while the linger of old laughter
glides through thoughts like
a lullaby
joined by other small voices
doing their best to keep this room alive

this room
where bags and boxes
stay set for packaging
while the clock watches you
as you stare at her picture
seconds longer than
you should

never knowing worth
is trailed by an expiration date
a ticking time bomb to pause
the perfection indefinitely
or force the transition of
entering the realm of tomorrow
where these walls will no longer
be your parameter

professional phone calls
seeping with the excess of formality
much like the strangers in your living room
who call themselves family
and the only room to breathe exists
in the interludes between conversations

in this limbo
you're sometimes caught
thinking about a girl who doesn't
love you
or the rugged edges of a face
resembling your father's

laps of repetition
dial, pause, voicemail
scripted dialogue left
from the same lips
which never found the right words

sometimes the steady ring
summons expectations of an answer
a voice without a body
to meet your work demands
or the simple silence
drawing you further into the void

marking progress
in tally sheets
tangible records of what you
have and have not done
measured by the 10-5 hourglass
before you're allowed to leave

job searches feel a lot
like dating
you send your qualifications out
hoping to display the best version
of yourself
only to be amused with silence

worry shifts from
bad posture and trembling hands
into multitude of doubts
shooting like fireworks into a sky
predicting rain in the bluest day

measuring the quantity of one's worth
stacked against beautiful faces and
perfect bodies
as the sun embraces them
like prodigal sons
and you are the older brother
still waiting for your time

cold fevers can ****
the confidence
and hide in plain sight
with masks of false phrasing
slips of the tongue
never forgetting to leave
a bad taste

setting sights
on some potential
lingering in the depths of tomorrow
in a space unamused by time

youthful spirits race through the green of the meadow
boasting worth as if it needs to be proven
unaware how or when their laughter will turn to tears

the shape of the sun captured in a car window
holds energy for future release
backseat romance is best kept in the dark

springs in between steps fail
to mention the secrets
spreading their wings in
empty space
without room to nurture any wound

boys and girls hold each other
and face the world like it's a movie
they keep each other alive with
endless affection
sometimes fearing it only exists
in verbal security

and a sky which sometimes goes gray
during games and adventures in trees
can tell you the heartache that may have been a phase
is now permanent condition
stretched farther
than the outstretched hands
like prayers to a nameless god
seeking a day where beauty can exist
from beginning to end

she never knew the shivers
from a sky glowing with galaxies
vast space painting the moon red

she was safe in the security of arms
rooted in a certain love
a kind of magic she only saw in dreams

this girl, this wandering beauty
who looks lovely in the eyes of boys
holding her shape in their stares

this love she felt
buried her insecurity
allowed her light to sing to the sky

his combed hair and sweet voice
wrapped like a blanket around her skin
the greatest strength was how convincing it was

her candle could only flicker for so long
before blinking into nothing
from honest hands forged by abuse
stealing the last of her beauty

this wandering girl - never recognized the cold
to feel the shivers of an endless night
breathing every scar to life