that man has got a blade for tongue
his vocals slipping off into the slum
he speaks with vigor
and empty voice of debilitation
the mouth of the rancid giver
he develops the destruction of communication

slashing tires just for fun
this golden child is on the run
from disabilities better classified as demons
losing his breath for the rising sun

the open eyes are clear to see
what is unfolding
right in front of me
a path to the future,
a gaping aperture;
there are a million things to say
but none of them match the light of day

i've been silent for quite a while now,
but here's some thought for the why's and how's
keep your soul trapped in the skin
until the day we are whole again.