They lie.
They're not devouring rugged rubble
Roads
That pine for European skies...
Pretenders drenched in eloquence-
Never surrendering their pride;
Rubber and pure ambition,
Saturated in their lies.
No, they-
Skid, spit, spew...
Mud up into the abyss where prayers
Wade back and forth through time;
Waiting on their maker to take them
And give them the final say.
They mark territories
On these couch cushions.
"She's a lonely soul-going nowhere..."
People say.
Oh, the wheels
I've confined my world to-
They were cheaply fulfilling,
Hub-caps appealing;
But I was ripped from fantasy-
Checked up on by reality...
Whose lyrics were doused in arsenic
Though they claimed the tick
Between "Sharp" and "Tactful".
He was
A little bit profane.
"Sir, please don't cross my path again...".
According to him-
Fingers that haven't grazed degrees;
Or that have received constant consistent C's-
Only bask in the static keys of perforated light;
Of small paycheck cubicles...
The devouring of "off-brand" pyramids
On
Looming grocery store nights.
So...
I got her
Medal shoes for
Treading backwards-
Half medal rounds;
Krazy glued them to her feet.
She's erasing twilights;
Thick navy eyes
And
Fire-twisted, tangerine skies
Where my tongue betrayed me.
Coffee over conversations
When
Truth delved so deeply into the
Crevices of lies
The combination
Birthed a hybrid category:
Glamourous gossip
Over
Phenomenal tragedies
Hand crafted by women who speak to much and know too little...
Breathing life into something more
Nostalgic than the truth;
Iced and laced with sweet grays-
Less bitter than a lie.
Oh, their craftsmanship
Solidified the walls
That suffocated you and I.
The acidity
Fascinated our
Sick tendency to
Rip
Each-other apart at the seams,
Causing Independence
To take sail
And voyage towards his own dreams.
We were fluid-
We were subject
To the vessels that carried us away
That pumped blood
Into the heart of the earth that was inevitably
Bound by time and
Fate
That
Demolished our
Blue-prints before
Warning us
That our attempts were too late.
I was an explosive
Volatile,
Time-bomb,
Fragile to the touch-
And you were
Dancing on a tight-rope
Spewing truths too
Corrupt
For my low tolerance
To tolerate.
So now we're voyaging elsewhere-
Some new frontier...
Knocking forts down
Or so it appears you are.
Do they act well for me;
Present me like
I'm moving?
If I spin in the opposite direction
I become a tornado that speaks gibberish
To your foreign eye
And stranger's tongue.
Your ears and
Night-time recollection
Will never conceive of
How near or far I've come.
So dig, delve
Hot treading babies
Into the deep southern clay-
Let me claim it glory whether or
Not I'm here to stay.
My hands just long to look occupied;
Like carpet bags are satiated-bellies full of supplies...
Like Europe is anticipating me on the other side.
I'll let you
Imagine what her medal shoes do...
When you drift away from me
And the music dies.
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