I’m Out

Standing there waiting to get rich.
Capturing snowflakes and copper cultures.
Pulling at the loose threads of humanity as the earth boils.
Wake, work, repeat on a set shift.
Eyes blinking into obscurity and conformity.
Waiting for the computer to load and the phone to glow.
An alien iridescent-ness which steals your soul.
A final broadcast will not be aired.
Turned down your voice as they block out the sun.
Brick bones that build a city of sad sapphires.
Sparking in the ruins of a Midas dream.
Leave your stuff off me.
Unhook the claw of the social disease.
I disconnect and disappear, logging out of sociopathic media.
Where you capture nothing but a sad slow demise.
I run naked, like in a rainstorm.
Bathed in the sulphur from the solar wind.
Running away from your ivory nightmare.
Leaving the broken cage behind.
I’m out.

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This is now your lament

Turning to fire in the diamond white sky.
Blaze across our memories like a dying comet.
Let go of disappointments, and feel the ground instead.
Touch my soul and feel your bones shake.
Then feel it in my heartbeats.
Singing out a rhythm as you dance to a heavenly tune.
We watched as you collapsed.
Imploded like a supernova of shame.
Yet do not decay and float away on the solar winds.
Cast you tear stained stars all over our indigo horizon.
Take the strides and tides that rip and pull at us away.
And leave us in the breeze of your wake.
Reaching up to heaven in our own floric ascent.
Like a frozen flower in a meadow of dust.
Locked for eternity, in the pull of your divine gravity.
Shed not a glance at our artic distress.
For we melt on the inside, knowing you are safe.

Consume

Under the solar flare.
The magnifying scorch of their eyes.
Caught like ants in honey.
Burning from the inside.
Shaking off these bus stop memories.
Tiny packed suitcases with a destination unknown.
Fly me over past Galileo. Around the sun and back to nowhere.
This clock ticks. My heart skips.
I shuffle further.
Clonking in these orthopaedic shoes.
Down a corridor with no name.
A bear trap catch. This snake skin unravels.
Feeding me again to the wolves.
The tock of expectation. The click of tongues.
And every year it swallows some of us.