Sometimes the moments I’m about to forget
become the worst versions of themselves
before they fade away.
I take a look at the food in the fridge
to take my mind off what I’ve gotta do today.
I think that if time and money were really
a one to one comparison than the unemployed
would be as wealthy as the owners that fired them.
It’s too late to unfight all the wars
and unravel all the whores from the pimps
that control and inspire them,
and they will die for them.

The key to everything is misplacing
the fear we all have of getting hurt.
Like the skater collides with the dirt
on a repeat and doesn’t treat cuts
with anything but some smoke
and a slight bit of pressure.
An old man once told me
that church pews are perfect
for firewood, and as much
as I don’t doubt that, the whole
idea just seems like a something
I’d rather avoid.

We come from kings who slaughtered sheep
to make points about how we belonged to them,
and then we got the hollow deal we always prayed for.
Now, we will fight for more, and finally surface
from this water we’ve been drowning in.
We will not ask again for what we’ve known
since this existence first insisted it was ready.
The ever steady climb that carries
blood around the spine into our eyes
that finally see what they were meant to.

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