flashbulbs
i found my voice yesterday-
hidden in winter’s frost,
i pulled it
from the wreckage,
of my future’s
expectations, back when
i had such a thing-
back when
i had dreams
and i watched myself,
move through cigarette smoke
and haze,
laced with alcohol.
now, it’s just a whisper.
today is not yesterday
and yesterday i was found,
amongst tall grass and willows,
that dot the far shore
of tomorrow’s ocean.
but tomorrow, is not today
and yesterday, was so far away
that i’ve forgotten
how my voice sounded,
back when i was proud.
when my roar
could shatter glass, and
my words
could move mountains.
i still believe
in words, written
one letter at a time,
while syllables form edges
around the cusp of ideas.
i still believe
in the pen but,
my sword will guarantee an end-
when it’s stood, up on end
and my vision
can sit
on the very tip
and exist,
plotting against the paranoia of a whole-
did i prop up the sword
before i arranged the glass pieces?
waiting to arrange them
until i fell through the creases?
i found my voice yesterday-
but today is today and tomorrow is already forgotten.
