isn’t it beautiful that our first reflex when listening to music is to replicate that tune,


with the same throats that are tired of speaking we try to make art

What is our society if not a copycat catastrophe
          A cold-hearted calamity of blind hindsight
Severed chains reforged in the flames of minimum wage
          How we herald the heretic

Free is the slave who detaches their arms and legs
          To gift kings their reign
Jeweled towers of bone reach to the sky
          And devour the progress of our connective open roads

What is prosperity absent a shared purpose
          Like a brain held apart from its own heart
Human history imprisoned on a page
          Ink-stained chronicle of our original sin

Thinking we can get where were going
          By forgetting all we have been
Each obstacle a handcrafted impediment
          Dinosaur dynasty doomed to irrelevance

They haven’t smiled properly since then
I long to look into your dark eyes again
To see what you hid in your soul from words
To take me with them on a journey to your world
They seem to remind me that you’re human too
That feeling unproductive isn’t something new
They vent saying you’re going through a hard situation
Where loneliness is causing a great deal in your devastation
It’s challenging you to try and live without it
To bring over new friends who truly love you and admit
It’s creating in your mind the illusion that no one wants you
And being stoical would be the only way through
So I ask you when it speaks in your head, radiating a sound
Telling you to disappear, say “ No I want to be found.”

Each day is a face with two sides
      Do or die
Failure is an ointment
      Swarmed by flies
Lies birthed from larva
      Contempt bred from pride
The caterpillar cocooned is consumed
      Blind to the future
Either monarch or moth
      Led astray by the flame

The world is words so seldom heard
Cries for help ignored, misspelled
Silent screams from those in need
Dying pleas can not be gleaned from mute TVs
Opulence by any means
Poverty penned as the new disease
Truth, the circus freak
Meager, meek, sad is weak
Rinse, Repeat
All that history speaks
Unheard echo
Beneath the flesh and bone
An unread poem

I could spend hours counting the freckles on your face

if that meant I could spend hours close enough to you to see them