Leave the inner world
for the world outside the walls,
procure supplies,
then, return again.
That's the plan, Stan.
Feet meet cement block.
You remember the last time
we took this walk?
As well as I do.
Insert a line I've used before,
commenting on the violet hues
of parting suns, painting the
skies above us as we go for bread.
Instead of hidden knives,
I pull a hand and offer it
as we cross the overpass.
If you're scared in day,
you're terrified at night.
Without a pause, you're reaching out,
grasping for a comfort, now.
Easy, is it? I'll bet it is.
If life has taught me anything,
the most important change
is that I learn to zip my mouth.
Joy equates to nothing more
than what others see in store,
and go on to demand of me.
Lamb's Bread from The CDC
replaces intensity
I've lost to love, with smoke.
Light it up, and let it go.
