walking down childish roads
i weep spotting something rotten
a tree
& i wonder before tying my shoes
in a church
guarded by senile eyes
i think to myself
why must i hold
in my fleshy heart
one becomes itself.

& below after years
of walking & soaking
structures & small
soiled gatherers
i see teal stained pages
smeared red, white
with the doings of our past
only needing a page in books
to breed fear in rosy hope.

looking before as a camera wants
we fly into the upward
quickly with enthusiasm
a smile etches our glossy face
& we see me
someone is here on my road
i stay calm
next to me sets the biggest
jaw i have or will see
sure there are greater
in numerous numbers
strange unfathomable flanks
ranking from mine
created from my rust
& our immense patience

seeing or realizing
there are strange silences
between the peace you held.

no.