I have a wishbone

Where my backbone should be

And I bend over backwards, snapping myself in half,

Trying to manifest my dreams.


I don't know how I developed such a spineless way

Of walking through this life,

But I know I need to get a grip,

and charge forth towards the sky.

I will rip out every key to every door you think or ever thought that you had access to.

I will go down the line.

Slowly turning each lock,
As I whisper under breath,

"*******."

There is a light of a different kind
In darkness, lit blue lights
A vision it takes to see
The visible through fleeting lights

Alone in groups they stay
Calm and conversant
Ever chanting, rhythmic voices low
Reverberant and slow

Breathless under the unrelenting sea
Through darkness one sees
The pathways in twilight
To Allay and alleviate
Woke to the crimson sky