To the God Who Watches Quietly
Why, O Watcher of Stars,
is my heart tethered
to a sky that rains smoke and neon lies
so far from the soil of my soul?
God, it hurts.
Why must I cradle the chaos
of a world that never cradled me?
All this time,
I’ve been a flame flickering
in a jar of glass breath
crying drops the wind never dries,
screaming in a language
no ear remembers.
What realm is this,
where silence grows like ivy
over my mouth,
and the roads bleed upward
u...