This Town Needs Guns It's Not True Rufus Don't Listen To The Hat
Have some faith
don’t you know that this is not a race
and we are not contenders now.
So ask questions like
which truth is the truth with which I chose to define
myself
and bare all my insecurities?
These cobbled streets and stone walls can’t contain us.
This knot in my stomach
is the result of all I envy
and the route to my redemption.
It reminds me that I am a mess of bone and tissue
and a slave to my own ambitions.
We can only be ignored for so long
So lets get back on that horse, take the road less
travelled and get away from this town of claustraphobic
creativity. Let’s start afresh, leave the embers of
this burnt out city to settle on the stunted seeds in
which it has poured its misplaced trust.
Lets see from a different perspective the sun, the sky,
the moon, the stars, the sea, sand, trees, clouds,
train lines, road signs, motorways and slip roads,
postcards, dreamy days, winters end and spring
beginnings, window seats, cats eyes caught in corner
glances,late night adventures, firesides and the dirt
grey contrast of the high rise with lights calling us
home; an orange glow snaking its path across green
fields, towns and cities. Drawing lines across maps to
open up new sights, sounds, and the infinite
possibility of the horizon.
