& beyond

if we believe in a horizon painted by someone else
we are doomed to travel on bitter seas, seas of lemon
lacking the honey of surprise, the stickiness of serendipity
doom is a hairline, a tired dog at your feet, a magic carpet
that shits like a bird in your hair.
ddom is hereditary, is thenculture nurtured in your
unseasoned lair of a heart. what is forsaken is never forgotten,
only stored in our human code, a plaid of chromosomes, a barterdd braille
of civilization and its nefarious agents. our vocabulary runs amuck,
our hope runs anew. belief is a bastard of which we are all parents,
and we make orphans of our dreams everyday. wordplay wont stop or
end it. dont feel sorry for the time. feel sorry for the infinity
that will never know your name.
–yolanda wisher 8/24/18