i lie on a throne made of mangled metal

forged from fibs floating alongside

Arsonist Lullabies lulling me to sleep,

my head resting against the twisted threads

uttering lies through their cold breaths

to keep me Sedated while

snakes From Eden slither into the ears

of screechers of Foreigner’s Gods,

glaring while perched upon their thrones

built from gold molded by their puppeteer’s strings,

their phrases daggers spoken from a tongue dipped in Cherry Wine.

when i listen to the cold breeze of lies

uttered by the misshapenness of my throne,

metal once mangled melts and molds into wings,

flying me beyond the kingdom built against me,

until the whispers of the wings sewed between each metal feather

go silent while the wings fall to rust,

bursting into dust leaving the need for their lies buried

In the Woods Somewhere.

my wings would leave me to wander where

the Sunlight becomes an encore for

the dance it has with canopy leaves,

and where the lyrics of lies now surpassed by

singsongs of Shrikes whose sound

impale the wind’s words

and the tree’s hymns.

all of whom beckon Movement alongside their dances

and Singing alongside their Noise Making,

and my thriving alongside them Like Real People Do.