Moving through the dry heaving cracks of this nation,
Saturating the minds of children and aspiring world leaders,
Nourishing intellect, community, and self expression.Could we be so brave?
Could we choose the people of the world as our own blood?
Could pipe-dreams lead to the sweet beaches of Turkey?
Metaphorical Perfection, I ask thee, “Can man survive in your world?”
Can a man who dedicates his live to change, ever be content?
Do kind people really get the better deal in the end?
Or is that just what everyone else wants them to believe?
“I clasped my heart in my hands to you Metaphorical Perfection.”
When my brain implodes inwards,
I can see the moment of my death through the optic nerve of my extricated eye
I don’t want to be remembered in ten foot tall print.
I wish to be whispered about, passed secretly under desks,
To live in smirks, and winks, and secret handshakes,
Not in spirit, or blood, But in life, humanity itself.