Pressed In My Mind

I remember smoke filled rooms,

and quiet spectators,

as they listened to us speak

the beat which was our poetry.

 

Our souls, on display,

this way, to begin.

Holding onto nothing,

watching their glazed eyes.

 

I couldn't supress the need

to smile, as I expressed,

what is in and was in

the deep recesses of my

mind, soul, dreams, and nightmares.

 

Laughing, without fear,

here in the moment of time,

this way, the end.