blinding orange sky
turning dark the alley nights
creeping into focus
mentally on the third time around
a little luckier and maybe
it takes skill to understand
because emotions can turn
any situation in chaos
created itself in the wave
emotion controlled can be beauty
never before seen
in a dream possibly
flying low over the city of champions
can’t always listen to the words
arm burns as I write
racing nowhere at break neck speed
coming to a spot within myself
barely recognize walking by the glass
breaking down below
held pierced by eight o’clock sirens
screaming from across the city
should go now and take the twenty minutes
don’t want to snuff the candle before
it burns bright as the sky
no matter east or west facing
my mind doesn’t change
just twists and bends
in a road higher in altitude
breathing in the thin of the air
lonely for no good reason
plenty of thoughts to enjoy
meditate with pen in hand
arm still burning because I don’t stop
words rolling off the tip smoother
than the ink that draws them
the mind creates them
whether I choose it or not
taking a deep breath of the humid air
sinking deeper into a place
can’t seem to escape
the mind finding release in the naked
pages stripped of their purity
by my words and thoughts
what on earth am I doing here
on the hard floor of the porch
apartment number two…
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