Old

Peace Never Gets to Grow Old

Consecrate energy,
Obey the demand.
You travel a million matters
From your source.

Letters overtake me,
Solid empty book that I am.

U kisses me,
I abuses me.

Synchronicity of text makes
My whole story work together
Like a glass machine.

But it isn’t about me.

Book of uneditable extractions.

Rock with respect.
You’ll be dead
And this song will be
Filling the oldies station
Like a bucket.

Rhythm connotes meaning
More than words do sometimes.
Body movement is our base language.

He doesn’t see the mountain
Under his feet as he travels
Only thinks that the
World has pulled away
From him