Promotion

Flight and fight,
trains deliver the body in their usual pace.
Usual – when silence hits the air with clarity,
and the horizon aligns with a single color –
boring, dangerous, optimal.
Success leaves its oily marks on my fingers,
there’s still an aftertaste
when the tongue licks the salt off the tips –
privileged labor in the 24/7 era,
flight, fight and that frail fright,
give me a sip of that wine, I’ll be fine.

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Games #5 (Makes no sense edition)

In my time on freedom’s crest I must attest –
unsteady is the settler in between his tests,
before the sickening see-saw of day-to-day’s caress.
I don’t feel blessed, being eaten by unemployment’s pests,
nor am I excited on my quest to trace the golden chest,
before the sickening see-saw of day-to-day’s caress.
This deep contrast repressed by pressed impressions –
it’s not my interest to be one with the oppressed, this I confess –
before the sickening see-saw of day-to-day’s caress.