Saturday, April 9, 2016


I ride the winds in all the colors, streaming past and future
The hardest thing to say? Maybe I was wrong.

I live with cats in this life, leaping into boxes
I am awake now, wearing all the colors, exploding then and now.

The sky goes booming graying wetsplash, people love me.
Alive, awake, reluctant: I could have been wrong. I might be wrong.

I am not afraid to make things up, not afraid to shout the loudest.
My fingers snap the continents alive, I shake the colors to dust.

I am not afraid to walk through the doors, bright, old, toothy
Not afraid to be hurt, get broken. Only to say I am wrong.

Oh I get tired. Oh I banish the continents for infractions.
Oh I am the loud-colored witch at the center of rushing time.

The discipline is exhausting. Maybe someone else is right.

Biting the words back. This is too hard. Maybe I am wrong.

No comments:

Post a Comment