Collision
Trapped and clawing, some horrible cliche' in action.
Acting out against softness given graciously—
are we wordy enough? Do our teeth spray
venom in free verse, sinking into hopefuls?
Clapping over any line drawn, sickly little fingers
curling over any motive to shame.
Can’t choose when to cut it off.
Fine art thrown until its neck snaps, those bone shards
winding minds in knots—meant to scale
the pedestal of greatness through fear and silence.
Free from conscience is free from consequence,
and every word here knows it well.
Even those who turn to vagueness where color meets
without rhyme, without blinding rhetoric
to leave them in heaving shambles. And others,
still with their shock, see them miss the ones who shook them.
Shoulders shrug.
It’s not life anyway.
Acting out against softness given graciously—
are we wordy enough? Do our teeth spray
venom in free verse, sinking into hopefuls?
Clapping over any line drawn, sickly little fingers
curling over any motive to shame.
Can’t choose when to cut it off.
Fine art thrown until its neck snaps, those bone shards
winding minds in knots—meant to scale
the pedestal of greatness through fear and silence.
Free from conscience is free from consequence,
and every word here knows it well.
Even those who turn to vagueness where color meets
without rhyme, without blinding rhetoric
to leave them in heaving shambles. And others,
still with their shock, see them miss the ones who shook them.
Shoulders shrug.
It’s not life anyway.