Choking on the Ashes of Paper Airplanes

an island
within an island
holding plastic toy
pistols
inside the music
holding
intimate conversations
with himself
over peanut butter
and syrup sandwiches
no focus
no world peace
the oceans rise
the sky falls
he does not
budge
an unpickable lock
under neon rays
breezed over
but never felled
his skin is
an open book
tattooed with memories
he found a way
through the black holes
over the moon
under the stars
a werewolf
of sorts
moving mountains
with a wave
of his hand
choking on the ashes
of paper airplanes
scribbled with poems
behind the embers
of a left-handed
cigarette
burning bridges and
listening to the world
turn
with social skills
that resemble arson
not a saint
not a martyr
a snake and
a liar
feeling no remorse

Β©James Dennis Casey IV

2 thoughts on “Choking on the Ashes of Paper Airplanes

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