To Serve Poetry

Get out your phones, you’re gonna wanna picture of this tomorrow when you realize what I’ve done.  
You keep me honest, 

I hear my conscience 

In your voice

Like a Morgan Freeman

Kind of way you think about God talkin’ 

A little ghost you keep inside 

Play pretend with a friend from an imagination

An image of you projected on a wall

In rushing for an end, the wall pushes away

And it’s nothing but smoke and space and falling

Into another time and place and no one knows

How you arrived but you,

The Doors of Infinity sliding majestically in and out of existence

Duplicitous, this universe…
I hear you calling inside my brain, a voice in the dark

Of an old tree, forgotten and wise beyond years

His belly had hollowed out- a kingdom unto many

There I hear you calling, “Hey! Come hang out”

So I climbed out onto my branches and swung myself too quick

Bruised my ass such that only laughing made it better.
I’m being a bad boy tonight.
Maybe you can’t eat poetry

But it eats me anyway.

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