I meet each green day with a roar
composed of all that’s come before.
The chair I sit in is the lion throne
and it’s the truth I wish to know.
Got a tightening grip on my phone
when that song plays painful and slow.
Long sighing through an arid throat,
I download things I feel and know.
Condemned to the perpetual
insomnia of controlling controls.
Open sky space underneath,
everything calling you at once.
The only clear eyes on the train,
red and puffy are their minds.
They lag and refresh to escape
the hunger beyond hunger’s pain.
In mad sick sniffling smog night,
the girls with their onyx tights and
malachite handbags and garnet boots
are looking for some recognition.
The boys with their kyanite jeans
and ruby ties and tourmaline hoodies
are dodging tradition.
Little children awake past bedtime
act out their Nintendo worlds with
spinning sword slashing leg sweep
combos,battling our lingering
demons too close for us to know.
Heading to where it’s going down,
I’m walking as fast as the clouds.
Streetlights blur into long streams
as I blow words like a puzzle.
Sometimes the syllables fit snug
sometimes its a stuffy struggle.