please don't 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 I'll 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 I'm coming to steal his 9 to 5.