dogpoet

I don’t know how you have the stamina to weave notes like an infinity tapestry
There is a crack in the treble clef tattooed on my heart.
I try to re-ink it with fresh melodies
But when I listen to your rich vibratos and complex patterns

I’ll cut to the chase:
When we cut down trees,
The sky’s scaffolding,
We’re building homes from the support system of the stars
And carving words into the corpses of forests.
We walk on floorboards of toppled dreams

I am the remnants of a lion’s mane 
Inked on my wrist
A reminder of my fierce origins in the stars.
I am the pain of a needle 
Sending life through that same wrist
Turning me into something new

I don’t want to be an old soul.
I don’t want to be busy
Pushing my soul’s wheelchair around
While my friend’s are dancing 
In the sun.
I don’t want to be an old soul.
Everything has an expiration date

Today is fourteen years the moon has shone on my head at night
And one more year until my worst fears will be realized
In the shape of a car.
I was born on a Monday