Roman Candle

Busy roads full of rusted people
and their rusted blood so slow
in all their veins while they all count
on things around them to remain the same.
How many more pizza places
will it take to break the need we have
inside for something new to soothe
what we leave out of everything?
Their eyes are white
like they were cut out of the frames
spun in the film reel and the space there
really isn’t of this universe at all,
but what’s outside it bleeding in
as a reminder we are lighting up a screen.
I will defend my hundred dollar couch
with my extensive collection of six hundred
dollar guns until the day comes when
I can feel like I am safe again.
The T.V. is our only friend
and it talks to us through actors who pretend
that they are like us but they aren’t.
Zone out when they would have you
pay attention to the words that they provide,
and never hide from what is claiming
to be after you.
I can promise they are more afraid
of each of us than we are of the sirens
in the distance closing in on just a fire
in the bushes started on accident
by fireworks we shouldn’t even have.
Sometimes nothing but explosions
get the world to stop its laughing
just to listen to the crackle
of the flames.

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