All That Jazz

I flick a cig and it lands on a leaf,

Burns to the ground and spins my beliefs,

Here is where I see a glimpse of hope,

A visual summary.


Time and time again,

I see this reflection,

A frozen mirror image.


I retrace my steps to see what it takes to make angels reflect

The substance abuse that froze and refused to save me from,
The street side performances inducing an endorphin run.

I see cadallacs, meth labs, and visitril,

So, I pop that pill.


Yet I still stand in shock.

Stuck inbetween round abouts,

Ins and outs,

And I ask the mirror to instill me with the power,

To perfect the vibration of a flower.


I tell the mirror,

"Its the tulips that fuel up indecision."

The mirror speaks,

"I can't compromise the way it hits your soul."

So I try to explain,

"Is it like heaven to the tenth power? 

A common goal?"

Is it life? Death? The in-between?

Is it what can't be seen?



This mirror winks and says,

"You see, it is subsequent, subconcious, and sequentially out of peak."

My eye's raise,

"Oh, so like a listing, a vibe,

I reason to hide beneath the covers

And sit alone and wonder about what's left of this mess we've made?"


And at this moment the mirror breaks.

A for once I don't need to say anything.




This poem is about: 
My country


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