nomad in my mind, there is no exit
with citrus skin against your teeth
curving in a pulpy imitation smile that
drew your lips high in vitamin c’s and d’s
to say i’m happy i’m happy well you were
once and the orangey grin attests
to the memory.
you like your money in grimey green paper pieces
so that when you throw it away on cheap band tshirts
youll feel it leave your fingertips and
remind yourself that slowly you give away what
holds you back, what would have burned
and you with it.
at eighteen and you can smoke and vote they
say congratulations although they give you things that
will eat you from the inside out, not me with
my paper thin lungs white as driven snow and a
mind that watches with narrowed eyes, 'what is government
but a cover word for control?'
soft and sweet the music lulls you whispering
nothings gonna hurt you baby and for a moment
you see grey and silk a cloak with a dagger that reaches
and tells you what you want to hear and nothing could be better
as long as youre distracted from feeling again as
music seeps over the ugly truth that silence speaks.
and someday when the sky falls you wont be there
to watch glittery stars shatter into the dirt
because you wished on each one years ago to
give grace, to let your body rot like real things do long
before the world could end again though it has before,
you always hated endings.
there is sodium in your bones like the sea and the sand
minerals like the dust covered earth you are merely soil and
dust to dust as your body falls back. the orange peels and
the crumbling dollars, the ash from a thousand lungs yet
ive always believed the music will rise light as air to
space or above, wherever it is that truth calls home.