Realms of Virtue

 

Mimed mouths sound spell the pledge of allegiance to the mile long walks up hill both ways into the night.

Stitched lips kiss the vowels that pirouette our steps in the cobble stones in the walk, and our teeth.

Keyboard instrumentals, and violins whisper fable tales of foreign language classes with text books, and stocked pictures from home. 

Fatherless, and flightless the court of public opinion holds us in place.

The long forgotten shells that we have woken up and shed no longer able to house the mass, and growth that shimmers only to be forgotten in the overcast of narratives that vacate the scene from our road maps.

Sticky filled soliloquies vomited up in half time, shameless martyrs that lack substance always the cool guy.

Insidious the hosts, ungrateful the guests on these one way dead end roads.

Navigation along the wind swept hills, and the soggy feet that caress the river's wake in flux, and in transit trail markers meant to distract along the misty streets alone. 

Farewell from senses that wash away with taste as the palate that floats it's way on.

Trafficked head space.

Many words but not substance.

Forget, and forget then forget some more.

Remember the spark notes but cover your heart the arterial spray paint will stain the carpet.