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I am touched by something
that causes me to want to
touch others no one has my
touch I have a touch of my own
I have a need to touch because
I have a need to feel full like an
empty void to fill a cause to fight
to build a house up on a hill
even if in mind it is at will
doodads on a windowsill
an unrestful night watching
flashing lights as the moon
effortlessly take flight
somewhere up out of sight
sitting still by the sight of it all
wondering did man really go
how did they shield from all
the glow if there's fire in the
skies then why is hell below
waking up finding it hard to follow
wishing no one had this pill
to swallow and waddle in the
thickness of blood spilled
curses spells in the family bible
concealed verses knotted
handkerchiefs searching
sections for hard candy
in grandmas purses a child
see's plenty only to grow
to see no more swaddling
fleeting infantile moments
flow back like hair grow back
wind whispering secrets
like stitches telling tales
to write leaving prints behind
releasing energy of no waste
it flows vibrantly back in time
in blues, greens and ultra violet
raze leaving behind DNA on
every page no one understands
non violent rage a standing
still march and silent protest
from a sword spilling ink
not blood in the streets
it's on the sheets like
some ones wet secrecies
from a poetic prospective
it's all rhetoric spill easy see
the connection old stories
recycling sequels equaling
same things as if operating
from same brains yet no
fingerprint is the same
just intensified desensitized
open book hellafied story time
