Please dont pull this dagger from my back
I want the whole world to have a place to
Hang their hats and watch the shadows wilt.
I want the whole world to pull up roots
From the earth like veins from the belly of revelation.
I want to fly these abused
Skies and take the grand tour of armageddon
Looking thru a dead saints eyes.
Strip the king of his crown and melt it down
To mold me shackles where ill remain chained
In contempt by the failure of what a ruler
Dreamt when his eyes closed and reopened
Dead with poems of apocolypse carved into his head.
I wake up dazed from the summers
Heat and find the carvers knife laying at my feet.
I am the author of tomorrow ,
I am the inkwells plea for featherpens.
I am 100 needles sewing the sun undone
(and selling fire one flame at a time).
Close your eyes and dream and tell forever that
Im coming to steal his 9 to 5.