I forgot about their records of this
They took the same notes
Measured the same walls with their hearts
Choked on dimples and legs and children
Yet their blood filled wine glasses
While she fills aluminum
(This girl, with her Styrofoam dreams
and flies in her head)
Their colored dream makers never abandoned them
For more currency and class
Leaving them with moths instead of sleep
Their ovens stayed warm and their
scribbles walked to the stage
While her scribbles are replaced with pitchers,
poisons and bedsheets, seeds and disappointment
What glory would such a destitute cloud dweller have?
One would not deserve such release...