Pills
Bridges
Nooses
Guns
There are a hundred avenues
To escape the future
But not a single road to escape the past
Yet sometimes I still mourn the past
The sting
Of ink seeping into the bone
Careening through the bloodstream
Cleaving, widowing vacant pores
Feel the sunlight splashing down
Burning
Enlightening our shaven heads
Refracting authority
Signaling, taunting rival carnales
Hear Richie Valens through the static
Serenading
Strumming lost odes
Consoling spirits
Healing, blessing open wounds
Smell the fuming, smoldering hash
Ribboning
Through slits in the forest tops
Elevating and bolstering dreams
Magnifying fears, reinforcing doubts
Taste the flank red meat
Searing
Charred like our history, our heritage
Shrouding blood and resolve
Masking the muscle within
See the names and numbers scrawled
Across walls and fences
Enclosing like prison yards
Reminding locals, warning outsiders
Stay away
There are a hundred avenues
To escape the future
But not a single road to escape the past
