Intentional Grounding

Instances inch from the 4 corners of the mind, benign craters the autistic lightning rod from suggestion gone blind.

Footsteps from waist bands sweating underneath the comfort of summers in heat, fluttering thoughts of the future not promised the tethered marinaded in salted grief.

The life so promised, so fruitful, and so.

Is nothing but curse words written in the truck stop bathrooms the imagery intimate, and fro. 

Calls in the middle of the night so captive, and bleak we sat through the re-runs, left on auto pilot to rinse and repeat.

Average champions, learning slowly, our language is dirty in flow.

Untouchable are we to thy neighbor, their towers made of ivory and snow.

Our birth into a society who's wedlock we don't even know, sits us the cellar where the houses are locked buried, and burned.

Rather than touch us they train us to dance for pleasures that serve thine self, and the comedy for folk, as the witness they crave evaporates in the gaslight in which we choke.

Further and further the seeds fall on from high, our shoulders buckle, crack out of stress we collapse as their castles crumble from the neck to the smalls of our backs.