The microphone is dented and the amps
are buzzing loudly over every other sound
throughout the venue.
I think feedback brings the room alive
like the current hits the filament and glows.
I don’t want to be a hostage anymore
to this revolving door of different screaming
madness. The rock faces running parallel
to the river, where the fish are full of metal,
contain the outlines for the blueprints of the world.
It’s easy to talk about being kind
but even easier to sleep and never choose.
All the workers in the back room apply glue
to just maintain their tearing shoes.
I can walk on my bare feet if I have to,
but what will they do when we aren’t
around to carry them? I can see the streetlights
going crazy and the sirens blaring all
to empty alleys and pavilions where
the people used to stand.
We will be above command within
the fire light that forms against the dark,
a simple refuge where the words we speak
are clearer than the glass between the old
days and the new, now going on.
Something is wrong, but not beyond
the reach of all of us
when ripping out our hearts.
Why remain afraid when there is
something better tearing at
the corners of the calendar
we all give up keeping track of?
Get out of here. I’m tired of explaining
all the different ways that no one understands.
I used to think that it was possible to win you over,
but now I’m not sure why I even try.
Look at the sky and you can find it there,
or really almost anywhere
just watch and sometime soon you’ll finally see.
Teleporting Typewriter 