Heat

Just another night in the city,
faces set in stone but not grey -
they're dyed brightly by the lights,
watercolors mixed by hopelessness.

Leftover rain drips from the wires
like lazy condensation,
this whole world is summer
on the sweaty edge of a glass.

And just like it should,
the heat rises, slowly, and then
the rush, the boiling and bubbling
and every thermometer reads red.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Run the Jewels, A Report to the Shareholders/Kill Your Masters

And now...

Think of all the fury, all the noise,
and the noise, the noise, the noise,
the noise, the noise, the noise -

Enough.

This is where it all ends, buried deep
in sterile confines and stark white tiles,
in air that smells exactly like nothing,
in the arms of a hundred people you
never knew you would need to meet.
They'll be there for you when you arrive
and again when you leave, exactly
when the rest of your world is frozen
in indecision, when it feels completely
stupid to just leave and move on,
but really, what else can you do?
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Noname, Reality Check

What is hope?

It's been a year since I've put anything up here. That is, in a word, unfortunate. Thankfully, today I realized that we're smack in the middle of NaPoWriMo, which seemed like a great time to jump back in and see if I could still do this. You be the judge.
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It is a scream
whispered
from atop a
minaret - something
like a prayer and
also like
a hundred curses.
The future is
no longer the future.
It has been
swallowed,
gulped down
by a greedy child,
red-faced and crying,
clutching the world
like it belongs
only to him.
The future is
the past and the past
is a gift from Death.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Oddisee, Lifting Shadows