There were silver spoons growing up, but I only got to polish them, then watch my family use them. Promises glazed in emptiness, blended with razors and glass atop a spork made of fool's gold. Traded in for bamboo and abalone on my own time. Jealous there were quarters instead of dimes for mine.
Finished throwing pipe bombs along bridges last week. Cast off, no lines, no trails, no roads. Free. First, they hate, then belittle, then copy, then fade. Watching from afar while fear creeps in, as hit by hit - blow by blow - each met with a growing smile. Masochistic tendencies learned in battle.
Sent death and famine; we sat playing rummy until dawn speaking of and to one another in hushed tones of reverence and understanding.
Sent devils to one who sees past the horns. Birthed of the same light; recognized and known. The ones who keep some safe at night, a place in which light can't abide. Where angels slay and demons play, and mirror one another. Light and shadow have the same home, hand in hand, together.
Threw caution to the wind but couldn't keep noses clean. Hands felt clammy and sticky. Some perceived power or greed? Something unfelt and unseen? Like a leech striking out blind in the wood. What is wished on others is what will be celebrated or endured.
We do not have to be saints to house a heart that is pure.
