I grew up in the furnace, halfway towards homeless
with scars on my feet to show where running took place,
and feeble lies were told to strangers for
a laugh back when people used to
use people for comedy instead of
text and image and text...

Maybe I'm still lying.

Everyone knew that black and yellow
means "danger"; from
caution tape to wasps.
Smiley faces.
etc.

Held their teeth to the curb,
and their hands outstretched
far above their heads;
Never prayed for anything.
We were taught to stop wanting
what we couldn't get.
We learned.

Whatever was whatever
and was the war chant for
Afghanistan,
and when Bush Sr. decided
he could name wars as he saw fit
[As a friend calls it,
"Operation Desert Storm™"].

Devalued friendship
in case we had to run away.
Adapted, really.
Ran away.

Prayed for death.
Fell in love constantly.
Desperately tried to have a home.
Wanted a home.
Wanted something quiet.

Out of the furnace.

Pink noise in place of somber thought.
White noise in place of shelter.
Noise instead of feeling.
Noise,
and heat.