oh, words

Juturna.

one hit wonder, wanders the night, ponders the sight
of fire
the credibility of desire
to be wired,
as a function
and not functioning
to be uninspired, and mired
to the notion of peace,
please.
to be tired, to be tired
to be immobile, and servile
bow to magazines, in pile
a half crooked, non-smile
style! style! style!
how

does the fire concede to nothing,
nowhere, tearing past every stare
ash out of the tray,
color out of the lines,
verse out of the rhyme,
laughing hysterically into the bright
2nd degree burn, a wrong gone so right
how

a plight to progress, no fight to protest
she backs off in seeming disinterest
apathy wasn't on the menu tonight
but she ordered two, just in spite
one hit wonder, wanders, ponders, plunders,
surrenders,
enters through the exit
nobody suspects it
how

the fire rages on,
she wants to sing along,
bites her tongue and runs
how

I wonder where she's off to
eyes so cold, heart so heavy
steady foot flowing, death-bed-ready already
I wonder who she's off to
hands so shaken, mistakes she's making
make the fake parts less hollow
make truth easier to swallow
I wonder why she runs
away
from the wonder
of everyday