HOME FOR THE LOST

The future of New York City is a growing disparity.

It’s past has been a history of indoctrination,

The present, is one of controlled chaos.

I bear witness to the cracks in the sidewalk as the arms of Earth bloom patiently,

Calling back for us against the mindful manipulation and deliberate suffering of her abundance. 

We are below the surface,

Never truly knowing Sun.

Unable to be,

Unable not to be,

I sink further past the point being made.

Dissolved, disillusioned and disarmed

We turn to the semblance of what we collectively remember to be real. 

 

Carried over the mountain we have come to create. 

Around the bend, we sought to turn;

 

Awake in a state of fluctuating lucidity. 

They own the means, we are the potential.

They sow the seeds; we are the fruit. 

Haplessly awaiting our rise through the floor,

We protect our egos by means of a will to power. 

Seeking explosion, 

Radiant flowers