A letter to my peers. by williamburton

Today I lost my two front teeth,
and tomorrow my molars might crunch like sucking sweets in to chalk,
pastalised in granite gravestones so wild roses might grow tall against them,
framed white amongst dead men who utter out whispers of forgotten tales,
no more rotten then any living tornement thrown after the torment of a Great War.

And so I’ll watch mindful in song,
as they play xylophone tones that pluck hollow on their bones,
majestically sewn through tumbleweeds of good, no.. great conversation;
Because this is my Ego now;

a form grown out of isolation to the social construction that your peers handle so dear to their chest,
while my heart speaks in wild footsteps,

dotted periodically against firefly sentences that hum in swarms towards an unlit dawn,
so captivatingly drawn out that it almost seems to tear the sky blind in to bubble gum clouds, above hum drum crowds, so terrifyingly loud and screaming – “You are not welcome here!“.

Well I am, I’ll whisper back – just remember that,

and if your voice hangs silent as mine did for so many years,
or the crippling sigh of release muffles the greatness in your throat that my hands have trembled for, for so long in solidarity fear,
I shall be your voice.

But please know that the sweet honey that rolls from your lips,
will forever be the clipped wing fortitude to my song,
and that it will linger on and on, long after you and I have gone quietly astray,
only to be born back in to one last love song that couples will lay flat on top of towels by picnic benches as a pitch black sea sings aloud in its shallow breath,
and the ripples in her dress will fall silently in complex methods of accordion construction,

only conspired more with each inhalation of wave upon wave,
until we all know heavy in our heart,
that we ALL are welcome here.