The Sequence of a Meltdown


My blue heart too long has been ice

waiting in the freezer to be burned.

Bleeding fire with each likely roll of dice-

waiting for the world to learn.

Our rainbows like impressionist paintings

hidden behind and inside

buildings of immeasurable height.

I thought I felt my sould touch the sky,

but then I realized

it was only the cold blue of your tinted high rise.

Fingerprinting a country, rewriting headlines.

Plastered by robots onto cool concrete.

"Help for an addict is tough", they scream from the sidelines,

Sipping poison comfort and sucking nicotine.

Alone with our woes, screaming Help me, Help me-

Power rules and kindness hides, finding no cure for our design.

Red glows in the windows, everyone know.

But no one gives a shit.

Lining up our homes in dirty rows,

saying we'll just live with it.

But its too late to change my brutal heart now.

Its past death, past numb, past fatigue.

Some voice inside the world, still softly calling out,

Help me, Help me.

But its drowned out by the sound of sin and nicotine,

starting the sequence of a meltdown.

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