thunder knocks on my street,
an arrest warrant decides its way out.
growing is a passive way of stripping apart infinities.
lest you see that the
ripples of my vision extract the fables of remote destination,
as my breath irons away the seams of the sky.
respondent to twenty two choices,
I gather away
to the cabin resting in my eyes,
a foot taller than the furniture of my voice
sans glowing embers of my despair
I’m shot with the blade of inheritance itself
as the architecture of the posterity imprinted in my skin,
reminds me of the
thousand promises that claw on my earlobe,
as I lay my heart on your doorstep
for the one thousand and first one.