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Puncture marks punctuate Torn from bullet wounding points A cage of overgrown weeds Deep breaths filling lungs with ache The moments between chaotic order dissemble Ties of red chord twisting Shadow calling in the tears The point of entry shifted and shifted again A wall of broken points Silent wailing phantom echoes Lesson after lesson of drowning The absence of fire dancer Lends to abscessed feet Only passion burns away the mold The crackling of the cinder in the bone Charred and yearning Hang not from a broken chord With voice cracking and ebbing Scream it out into the world Make it so tangible that it tastes in the mouth Of all that would deny you And when they stick their fingers down their throat To regurgitate a stunted message of growth You scream again and again and again Not louder as though engaging in siege warfare But wiser knowing the ground on which you stand Is not the decayed decrepit bog they would trap in But the coals of your own damn magnificence Burn it all down
– Joey Morris 2017
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