Air thickened by the winds of crying lungs.
Sky reddened by from the splatter of my open wounds.
One can very much breathe while standing tall on this rotting soil…
What other choice do I have as I trot over to the Lion’s Den?
A Hell on Earth where souls wither away underneath their undying squabbles over pennies and nickels.
Tall and strong I go,
Entering inside to do a job I don’t love while my feet signal for my much needed resignation…
“Back to mopping these dirty ass floors…
I mumble to myself each time I enter that space where the majority of dreams die…
I need it.
It could be worse…”
There comes a time where one has to be their own source for motivation,
That time where you’re restricted while your heart bangs on your chest screaming,
“Let me be free!”
Mine was begging for my soul to release me from a Prison most of us set ourselves in…
As I enter one chilly night,
Facing the locker while putting away all of my valuables including my journal,
My Best Friend happens to walk in out of no where!
As I jolt over to hug a good friend I haven’t seen for the past three years
Smoke begins to engulf the ceiling.
His arms still anchored down.
Not a grin in sight.
Face more grim than a day without a pen and pad.
Something was wrong!
My mind failed to ding a single lightbulb into existence…
To be continued…