The Limitless Sky
There are 10 buildings on the horizon.
A blue neon silk,
the sky emaciated.
And you would not believe the words.
But listen, this isn't for you.
White plastic decor that we've become.
I have friends so golden
and a childhood so broken -
just like you.
My drunkenness finds sorrow and joy.
The vacant dirt so dry from neglect.
A great distance from the beyond.
And she, not you,
is more than the weight in this room,
more than the history of exploitation,
more than anything possible.
Strengthening these bones,
the taste that i've become.
You, that consume this.
You, that watch the fourth wall undress.
You that I would fuck with abstinent eyes.
You know that every minute matters.
And I, who just wants to get laid or forgotten.
I, who is not the absent stage or amplified sound.
I know the space between us.
But we, we exist in Egypt.
Eruptions of conscience and compliance.
Beneath this privileged facade.
We hang from suburban trees
with such beautiful grace.
The junkies, deadbeats and alcoholics.
We that are and always will be.
Our bodies warn,
our souls stunted in the artificial light.
The futility of money plastered to our dull face.
The streets forming track marks in our veins.
And we look east for salvation.
Squinting in the dim light
just long enough to know
that we are the monster.
But not understanding why.
A thousand self help books
burning in the conscious mind.
A hundred protest marches,
suffocating in the shade.
Insignificant and silent.
Never quite desperate enough.
While they drown on the lines of empire.
Property, corporation and state.
Occupied and beaten.
For what could never exist.
Deprived, desperate and hungry.
A life we could never know.
You would never want.
And I could never feel.
There is no horizon in the limitless sky.