Oh, to please.
To pass this need forward.
To place it amid the space between the stars;
Spent amid the silence of parked cars your breath can
Steam a window on the world as you wrest amid your brother’s schemes.
Their addiction to dreaming awaits its cure; it will close still in murmurs of lost
content and form; Desire opens deep a wound, you stammer still the words of men; how
foolish one seems defying the thunderous and the pious, the weak, the ill-mannered, with a
head of tears and a sanguine heart coming forth this way – this sterling way, outward you
sit along the Path of mere resistance, you rest in this foolish place, upon carpet ripe
with images does your eye seek the resplendent venue of the land of the woven
miss-begotten, the time of folly where crisp did flow your brother’s goal to observe all
in quick demise?
Oh, but here outward only do you see the inert space where time and tide indeed do wait
for you; for what others see only seeks to grasp the bar sublime and flip them out in space
One broken dream at a time.