When you were Eden, that longest prairie night, warm with verdant moss on trunk, no soft cover, river shine vivid – Me, a bee, would
Is the writing on the wall so cryptic – graphic images depicting rage, flames of dissonance, young men bleeding at their own hands compassion incapacitated.
Here’s a boy, tender and raw, heart exposed awkward innocence blocking his intention Here’s a man, eyes fiery coals, hands coarse , face leather, smoky
Set me on the open road, encourage me to cross borders; I am hungry for knowledge, to hear a higher calling. Cannot tolerate chained-to- chairs