I stand ant hill small,
beneath the shattered American dream,
while schemes of mad men fill their pockets,
(with my soul.)
Endless coffee shops and sidewalk satire,
I stand guarded against lidded, lying eyes,
obvious intentions, sugar coated smiles.
(You could at least pretend.)
A portrait in prose, single tear obliterating happiness.
Mind left behind in shackled sadness, sleep is never.
Bending backward, breaking, mind snap.
(Or was that yesterday?)
Fear swims shark circles, stalking tomorrow’s promise of
happiness. Wishing for childlike splendor spent frivolous.
When paper hearts were art, and your home was your castle.
(Once upon a time.)