Deported yet indispensable,
thrown away
from the rooftop of fate,
falsified and twisted by spring winds
anonymous manuscripts
are brought to a new life
inside the borders of disposable amnesties.
Framed and cuffed,
Lacking any real choices,
welcoming the zeal of impatience,
the defying instincts of youth,
its irrational response to chemical attractions
seeking refuge
in seemingly mutual affections hidden between the lines.
Simply,
like that,
I rule my own world
severely, profitably, intrinsically
taking stands against savages
who refuse to publish or perish
in defense of what makes me me and you you
more or less immersed in defenseless confusions
invoking and provoking
a worrying pile of rebuttal rights
leaving the orphaned abused
like a mapped future
risking a jungle of question and exclamation marks
for the same footprints of the same trespassers.
Marginal distrust advances from forgotten identities,
- the consolation of losing one's reputation
from assimilating recession...
While playing the waiting game
&
receiving the silent treatment,
I'll be solely following the directions of my time
showing itself
now and then
like a redundant angel from underneath the scars.
