I've never been gold
Although Daddy tells me so
Yet we show no resolve
we've been strangled from the branches
growing out of my arms.
Still our palm lyrical lines innate
the lub-dub machine finely tuned
the knees have blessed by
the ashes from the moon.
But by and by
grass stains the tombstones of my dread,
locks freed from the brass constraint,
paradigm extrapolated from the taint,
**** smeared on the watching walls,
living on far longer after we die.
And yet, still here we stand here
cross eyed and bright
pictures tinted lime green light
motionless incisors greeting the might
feet planted parallel to the earth
being nothing
nothing at all.