Each beheading holds
The truth of Justice

Now, when the arch light
Flickers at Dawn
We see the Repear holding
The underlining of the fat belly
Of Free Verse

When there was nothing
You complained
When You had Everything
You complained

Instead of Fortitude
Births Arithmetic
Pushing rose petals
With the tip
Of your chapped tongue

Every rain drop
Slows me down
I step as if it is
The last one
I will ever take

Naive hesitation from
A mother who elapsed in Love

As water builds on my chandelier
I hold nothing in my hands

I am tired of these
Sick, enjoyed, hipsterites that
Praise things they have
Never even touched or seen

A bitter taste
Holds
For the soul
Of the pigeon

They say things
That hold nothing

That praise nothing

That say
Nothing

As am I lost
I will stay
In the meek and
Desperate

Gutter

Flipping pennies
As the seagulls mock me
Having flight
Where I
Do not

Desperation hangs
On their nouns

Humorlessness spills
From their verbs

Showing the Fear
That somehow they know
Nothing
Is Near

The Prison Light Moves
The Beat of the Heart Folds
A telling affair of
The rich, priceless, and snared

Reading you
Brings out the absurd
In
All of this