Mɛss.

When poetry becomes a disease,
and people all too untrustworthy

When a million ideas begin to inspire,
but they all sound just so clichéd

When you are finally barefoot
but the land disappears from below

Or when you’re ready to take flight
but above you spans a sky no more.

Commas, slashes, colons, fullstops:
knives, daggers, tight knots, stones.

When promises lose their sanctity–
of forever, hope, “Forever, I hope.”

There is no use finding meaning, see
Life keeps pouring death into bones.

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