sepia gold, with a tinge of violence,
I lurked around, beneath the crust,
ate cicadas and locusts; believe
me they were a delight, handful of
easy proteins and a cashless treat.
I crawled underground to the trains,
their light piercing my pupil but as we strike
head to head, I am awaken.
This year, my locks hanging, to the height of
knees, with a tinge of desire and escape,
I squirreled away, into an empire,
wide and superstitious; palaces in the
air like flying carpets, butterflies the
I reached the ears of the winged driver, to change
directions perhaps, but he sprung me out
like a sponge, I am awaken.