Wisdom

(Please note: This prose-poem was inspired from the lyrics of bands such as Don Martin 3, Pg. 99, Neil Perry, Allegory of the Cave, Portrait, Horror City, I Would Set Myself on Fire, Storm the Bastille, and many more. So you may find some similarities. Try and find all of the references)

My heart convulses in the fluttering of this nocturnal nightmare asking all agents of proverbial chaos to stall, while the constellations of a stargazing wonderer contemplate the nature of a backyard fistfight. Now is liberation is now. We live and lie in this dead sinking story that is not immune to the inherent purity of the sun in my eyes. So we’ll crowd together in a cellar door and make a fleeting attempt to build a fire, (fire as a metaphor) and we’ll grow humble before the all mighty power of the paper cut. The sea will silence us all and we’ll exclude by violence because it’s all we know and tonight never had a reason to pompously believe that it would be any different. Because this is just between you and me and the sky and because we’re not the intended, and this is what keeps us staring at the top floor, living sin in grey, addicted to the progress of elimination. She stares to fall. The universe has expanded so hideously but never took the time to answer the questioning nature of September or the color of dysfunction. My lips explode into a smile.