Poetic
insecurities
haunting
unbroken
dreams in places
deep beneath
the waves
of electrolytes
pulsing
through
each brand
new idea.

All piled
high beneath
sagging
aging
full moons
heavy and
fat with
the
birth
of
darkness
spilling
over
its
edges
black
as
the
ink on
my quill.

Each four letter
word
a shout
for
justice
and
security
a never-ending
story
of
hate
and
rejection
a
will to
move
the
world
with
scraps
of paper
and
inhuman things.

It’s
the
release
of
prejudice
the
uncontrolling
desire
to
shout.
The
fumbling
rage
of
freedom.
The
right
to
speak
the
liquid
thoughts
floating
behind
your
eyes.