started out blank,

write me.

mama did. then papa.

then sibling, relative,

then neighbors, schoolmates, teachers, superficial whatever

works. in the process, works, deeds, titles

labels – caught you.

on a hook,

words, lyrics, drowning in many alphabets

characters formed

or did it happen before language came about?

live life, whose life?

i asked no one in particular

for everyone is busy these days,

nose buried in their issues,

no freebies … … the news caster shouted out

to an empty street. could have swore i saw

my a familiar smile at that notion

when it is hard earned, it is pigeons becoming hawks

some do have it easy.

wait. easy you say?

and the snorts, the grunts, the flexing

of muscles, or despondency, i know not – apart they

seem like one smooth surface,

and a wave that breaks

is labeled an outcast, the “good people” refrain from

touching what is a stigma, their reputation is at stake,

though it is extreme

to say a dog yowling for angst means literal death.

it’s just yowling,

you know suffering,

and the surfers they ride waves,

not absolute

cause relative is what they

clutch. when the waves refuse to move forward,

time to pick the best sunshine

though i prickle

beneath the surface.

feels like heat, i cannot speak about heat

for redness means

damnation.

what world is this?

—- already i am sliding

into

bones

prickling

at flesh.

it bites, it hurts, bleeds

damnation. it is quite easy to see

how. no one knows about why but pretend they do.

the crowd gives money, meet on schedule.

then seem unfazed

when the verdict is redemption.

a child knows this. not an adult,

maybe we regress

as we get older,

you know.

when a twist means arm bending,

or a twist means fate over throws – man’s shallow reasoning

i like to think

they have it wrong.

cause it makes no sense

when the riot becomes the next

truth out there

while god is dead.

you know? a dead god and a crowd able to spring fire,

i rather have a dead god.