23 Minutes

Survival in spite of a series of unfortunate events, And despite being delirious in the head, I thrived in the thicket and the brush. The Moon’s departure was the Sun’s arrival, Nights in the cities was ahead, I felt alive again in the swish of the rush. Light up a diluted filter with a crush, Cycle air through dirty lungs, I wish she killed her only son quick and shushed. Plights ignore the fetus’ who are flushed, Now I’m too scared to kick the bucket and squeeze out the gush of air. That’s Momma’s only son. Survival in spite of the feelings fostering in the head, Sights a blessing for those who smile with ease, But I arrived with a frown bigger than my lush lips could brush. Break no bread with prisoners, Nowhere is there air off this rock, So we’re all in a cage, Indebted to a figurless god. Living in a cage without a lock, But the door leads nowhere but despair, Metaphorically living by the ticking of a clock. Metaphorically punch my ticket off this rock, The stage was a limelight I couldn’t contain. Living by a great big candle, The sky’s the only god I could want. I want to fly but only 8 inches up, I shouldn’t think this way but words are a “shy boy’s” lunch.