The Woulds

This is a gift of sacred insight

Into a certain strain of moonlight

A distorted version of “fight or flight”

No sleight of hand

A willful and hopeful submission

That damningly inviting gaze you gave

Without consent it brings out the worst in

A faulty narrative of false history

Between the contrast of dim light & green

Outside a window fogged with resentment

Toward all the careless views

Imposed & willfully ignorant

Entwined in what could never be

A contaminated symphony

A broken shell on a streetlight

Has no place on this busy street

This lively street

Assimilation: a constant deprivation

Of kinder thoughts, a harsher buzz

Minor trepidation, consistently avoided

Largely by a divided nation

And I can't wait to see what's to become of it

When we are finally separated from this

Useless affidavit

Sky blue spirits watch over me from a box on the nightstand while I sleep

And they ask me how I can sleep, knowing the secrets that I keep

This faded mindset never unlocks

Anticipation: a waiting worried, warm & sick sensation

A little bit deceptive; sly and inconvenient

Alert, but not perceptive

Oh, what wicked webs we fail to unweave

Abandoned intent to care to try

What wicked webs stare unwaveringly

Will I ever change this mindset from "I" to "you and I?"