Clouds swirled noon into evening Old rain jumped from forever evergreens Into the open mouths of concrete covers, Against bricks and also against transparencies invading
REDRUM is the concrete jungle Let me guide you through its cookie-cutter maze Admonition: be wary of the haze they call beautiful Sirens are meant
The beautiful brown of the brush below the tree The tree whose leaves were once upon green Lies bare yet wears layers of wisdom Gifted
The termination of an expired concept ignites her The audacity they hold to deem her conceptions antiquated burns a desire into her to disprove that
“Hello!” I shout, Over echoes of unconscious streams of vibrantly dynamic consciousnesses, But He can’t hear me, She can’t hear me, And neither can They.
Restriction, constriction, eviction of the mind when we give in to fiction, addiction, and race against time I looked at her as she took her
The sun peaks through the leaves And two twin cans dangle innocently from the branch of a tree Between the rising morning dew And the
Three white faces draped in black hooded sweats loitered in the doorway of my once upon a time. I would have willingly let the bed