Blue Lightning (nonsense)

The red flickers. It flickers as your breath resets itself among the better half. The ash blends in with the hands that don’t mind being tarnished by the day’s remnants. Pen ink. When you think you’re doing something wrong the right shows light more fiercely. The dust gathers. It gathers below credit cards crushing. Crushing with the odor of pills pressed softly against it before. Sirens echo. They echo in the night and remind us that we’re not alone. We roam the streets we call our own but no one dares to mention home. For, home is where the heart belongs and no one told the neighbors we belong here. The fear of walking down the block is a fear that rots in the conscience. The nonsensical self-deemed detestable yearnings for solace in a place where that’s hopeless & futile a mission. They tell you that you should climb the latter before you make the jump. But once you’ve made it up the rungs, there’s seldom climbing down. The let down is palpable, the irony unstoppable and ‘till I wonder yet another time again about it all the doubt will break my fall. I call out with all my might, and stall out at the bottom of the hill that I’ve lived on top of all my life. The right words come when the one to do the saying stops and thinks—and before reflection and correction, the saying starts to sing itself to sleep. I weep for the old and I weep for the young and I weep for the overly confused, and tangled and abused—respectively. The red flickers. It flickers on the tip of the match over which you rehashed the better part of yesterday, while the future burns away and blue lightning saves the day but only because of the crack that makes you stop in your tracks and take in the color. Have you forgotten today belongs to another?