Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The streets

A little unfinished,
frayed around the edges.
You are.
Soot for skin, dust for eyes
and nails that dig for
discarded treasure.
There is a hole in your heart.
Running deep.
And unhope.
Running through your veins.
You grab the world in chunks
and tear it apart.
Keeping the pieces under your pillow
to make dreams at night.
Whirring helicopters and flitting lanterns.
Songs on your lips.
Yellow roses and monkey shaped balloons.
Brothers on your hips.
You are the helpless future
disguised as a lonesome child.
Sleeping under the bridge of destiny.