A thousands spires that whirl and dervish,
high upon the scorching currents in the air.
Across the empty desiccated wastelands,
so long parched without waters soft repair.

Like gyrating embodied souls rotating,
to lay scar deeply carved upon the land,
driving clouds of rock like pelting hail,
headlong until all is shattered into sand.

Flashes of lightening and thunders call,
clouds cast in iron, observers of the scene,
testament in muted light from up on high,
sole recall of still waters that once had been.

Desolate open and forsaken landscape,
where only wind gives motion to the world.
Leaden clouds of rain without a falling,
static charged clouds constantly re-curled.

How long ago it was that life had left,
its own scars and marks upon the soil.
until through life's' own achievements,
a once beautiful world was left to broil.

In that not so distant time when remnants
of the miracle that was life is erased and gone.
not one thing that we have ever seen or know,
nor memory of who we once were shall live on.

I’m an imposter.

I’m an imposter and no one can know.

I may end up on the street in rags that once were my clothes.

Money isn’t everything,
But being poor blows

And I’m facing the clock.

What then felt like freedom now feels like a box;

Like a long leash
in a big yard
Where the gate’s always locked.

Each night I am kept awake
by this timed ticking madness
embedded in my skull
reminding me of who I could have been,
motion picture madness,
blood in the back of my throat madness,
breaking at the sight of dawn madness,
teeth bending at the notion of truth madness,
lungs filling with sadness
and beginning to drown
madness,
in every cell of my body
madness,
breaking my own heart
in the middle of another night
waiting for the sun to shine
madness

I am as snow in warmth of dawn,
I cannot linger
for too long.

"In a time where the only time
someone gives an honest blessing
Is after you sneeze

But even then,

They're only doing it
out of a heightened instinct
Rather than actual genuineness."

"Maybe if we were keenly
focused on self change
Adopting change;
letting go of your chains

But many;

Want to pray for change
but never spare a cent towards it."

"And a blind fool
works himself till they bleed

But;

Only takes it as sweat;
never seeing all they've spent
On all they've lost;
trying to build a better tomorrow
With the problematic chains of yesterday."

              So is it Change or Chains?