At least there was fire
In the beginning
A flame that twitched
Like a fly de-winged
Tossed onto
The kitchen floor

Now there is the tepid
Water of work
Play
Work
Living in the order
That life was organized prior for

I hear children scream
With both joy and terror
Envious of their freedom
Their ignorance
Their freedom unhinged
I poke my head out the window
And listen to what once was

5.6250 %

Take my guns
Take my money
Take my home
Take my artistry
I don't need it
Anymore than
You do

There is always a price to pay for adventure
Nothing is free in America
You learn, you pay
You live, you pay
You love, you pay

America, you always make us pay
Even when we hide under the excuse of
Poor family history
Lack of work or none at all
The eternal class system
Excuses that separates us from them
If there was ever a chance to take it back
I would

Instead of water
I am handed smoke
Listening to the drums
I reach for a memory
To see white snow;
Love-making in the June sunlight;
Bus rides with no one;
A loneliness too empty and too vast
To ever be filled up again.

Since pity doesn't fly,
I must grow wings and use
What I learned, for what?
Sit in the seats.
Listen to the words that were taught to me.
Observe my naked flailing body;
Feel something.
All the girls will be ok.
The boys, well, some of them
Won't make it past 30.
What do you think all the drugs
And ***** are for?
For forgetting,
Remembering,
Telling the future.

I put it off.
Paying for something
That dear and detrimental
Just didn't
Seem right.

I feel like I am paying
For those experiences.
I feel like I am indebted
To the puppet masters
Behind the cloth,
Their strings still attached
To my back, their backs,
Our backs.

Were we
Ever in control
At all?

Who put this pen in my hand?
What are these paper's?
Why are you smiling so broadly?
"Sign here," the face said, "Here, here, and initial
Here."
Where do these papers go after this?
"You needn't worry about that, now."

A step by step process
To get into the hands
Of people that want
In your pockets.
Can you feel the absolute?
Hands like flames and
Icicles all at the same time.

They call.
They pester.
They make sure
The lesson
Was taught right and
Accounted for.

Even when I'm dead
They'll want more.
There's always interest
On a body, on art, on experiences.
There's always money to be earned,
Lost, and
Stripped of.

America:
Take my home
Take my creativity
Take my passion
Take my money
Take my will to live
Take my and myself
I don't want any of it

Anymore.

You've made me regret
The person
I ever wanted

To be.

Hope
Has nothing to do with it.
Action
Has everything.
Even the root makes one
Want to start
Swinging.

I see you now,
Acting by reading.
Rubbing the milk and honeycomb
Words from the page
Onto your skin.

Take it in.
Take it all in.
There is so little time to act
And many
Never find their own way
Of acting.

If ever I cease to act,
I hope I am dead.

Truth of the matter,
I know I'll be dead.
We all will.