No sound but escape

The last gasp of a city, stifled through individual disdain.
Strapped to that engine of pain.
The eternal clock that moves everyone forward.
The teacup, that cannot un-shatter.
God’s will, the devil’s plan.
Darkness leaking up out of the drains.
Black balloons to cloud our uneventful skies.
Thoughts like a bruise.
Blooming and fostering more on a delicate mind.
They wait around for the heart to break.
The lies to normalise.
The violence to wrap itself around.
Like fingers of priests, going where they shouldn’t.
You want to leave this place.
Crumble the buildings that warren your life.
Cough out the diseases and the dirt and take a train.
Over tracks on water, the straight edges leading away.
To what, you don’t know.
New spaces to inhabit, to sink a soul into.
Uncertainty, the first sign of freedom.
Lighting fireworks in the mind.
Soon the metropolis an old family member.
Seen only on special occasions.
Lonely in your memory, and very nearly forgotten.

F(l)inch

The air is alive, black on blue.
A multitude of ravens, seizing the world.
Magpie eyes on anything that shimmers.
You unfurl and follow. Placing the ties that bind.
Half asleep, half blind to predicament.
But something murmurs. Something calls.
An unfinished business that followed from before.
Each step, eyes down.
Stepping out from a dream, feeling the floor.
A product of now, naked and true.
Let the feathers unfold, and roll into a climb.
Un-flinch. SkyWest. Un-crooked.
Drop the grey.
The waiting in line.
And sing, distant and near.
A song so many wish to know sincere.
Eyes closed, breathing in the new air.
And let your colours paint the sky.
Wiping across a new dawn.
And darkening their sheltered lives.