press this city to begin
portal scented rapture
somewhere I remember
the smell of rusted Sun in the alley
soft clay, oiled with combustible churn
built upon, torn down
and built upon again
ghosts of horses carry the burden
as I teem with a madness manifested for more
I consume to digest my past consumption
and I keep hope in my pocket
just to have something there with me
after the crowds have been fleeced and
my electric chair stops seeking thrills
to fill every moment of an empty heart
I lean against any wall I can
and breathe because
going crazy
isn’t a destination
it’s a journey
it’s a heaved-chested destiny
that says bring my needs
to bleed with time
and my desire to burn everything the speed
of brick and mortar fiefdoms
and to demand in a false veined hustle
a willingness not to see
behind the curtains in the dark
because I can only crawl in starts
as I haven’t found the will
to press the stop button just yet
and because my eyes don’t see
as well as my fingers and nose ever did
EJR ©
poem 142 of a poem a day for 2012 (NaPoWriMo30)
