Keeping Time

Insight beyond the sun

tumble, tumble, scram

the boy brushed off the dirt

that clung to his wound

Hey! wait up!

Frankie turned and left the rest behind

punks not gunna catch me now

and out of breath he climbed a tree

where life danced with dry leaves as they fluttered to the ground

You think that will save you?

tumble, tumble, scram

I can’t walk anymore without a cane

jokes on you though

as we tumble

tumble

and fall.

Enter

Bored, Anxious

For everything my mind refuses.

I kick back and fight the rush,

And I begin.

Do I make a shelf for my wooden swords

Or do I bear them quietly with my crumbling silhouette?

 

Yea, I did the beat thing,

And I didn’t have a clue what it was.

Yea, I gave up on a lot of things once I hit the falls of New York,

But then again, who didn’t?

 

I am of an age

Where I am told by all norms to explode

To change

And revel in differences

And yet I am quiet

I am old

 

I have spent five years

An inmate of this asylum

And with this subliminal challenge to self to remain

Un

A faux pas of force

 

I cry with this sentimental anxious boredom.