Inhaling hot smoke Down the throat And into the lungs- Breathing it out In the words He won’t say-

Soak submerge In the dirt of yesterday run a cloth across my rigid landscape all that’s dead falls to lay fingertips trail over a track on repeat . . . goodbye . . . goodbye . . .   distorts and morphs an echoes’ retort . . . hello . . . hello . . .

A song’s rough draft Sits unfettered In his lap. My sheets spread And slip Scattering ~ To the sky To the heavens.

   heady    sunsets    golden rain    silhouettes    a scape    i will it    lest forget

           Second hand house plants                   and yellow light             dance inside the zorbing                    grey and white.            Isolation rolls imagination          in the home of jumping Joan.

Hot words pressed on an ivory page. By the Goldsmith? By the Wind. Wordy joy forgets Wastes. Disintegrates. The blackest stains remain Poisoned. Piercing. Throw sticks, throw stones Please... Hot words divide homes. On this page  Your ink remains. Ink, far thicker than blood. Our ink-tainted Blood.

Afflicted man. Held hostage by a cramped mortal frame, Foreign to his own eyes.  A prisoner's rage kept at bay Only by the day’s appeasing rations. If you shave his hair, paint him white: Would the mad man howl in his human plight? A forgotten name and numeric code to hold place, A man stares back at a stranger face. A man. A number. Sardined among all others. A man. A head. Tossed about on sea of dread. "Free the prisoner!" The swollen heads cry. Peasantry, collectively out number The Royal Family, Nobility, Gentry. Yet, their breathless voice go unheard. One day... The ocean tides churn Charging winds fast at the horizon. Sure, as Alexandria's fire did aid the sicken mariners ashore, Starlight spears a grim pit sky. Relentless breath lapping, wrapping, whispering, wailing A man once tied, set sailing Set free.