let me wave this flat, flimsy thing before you,
scoff, wait and try to buoy
the thought of never having
that same crusting feeling again.
everyone,
your fetters are your long, blank eyes,
ever conforming, mass following ideas;
the spark you all have to be you,
like something new, is forgot.
I want to make sure you know,
that all you do will end in smoke,
tonight, your sleep
will wrest your eyes from you,
from me, from her
and fling them to the dark,
open air you claim to own.
This crust that makes you work- "your art"
will give your time feet and no one will care.
Posted 20th November 2006 by kevin