The headphones drown out the cries of the hungry as the train rages on like a metallic dragon. She is pretty. The homeless chick. Her voice booms even with the music turned up in my ears, leading me to believe she is well practiced in this art.
he dreamed of a place past the moons and cuckolds of his heart where he and his lady could bask in the warped rhapsody of their love a story told an untold times mounted against him So he waited strangled by principle he waited for the revolution to scream aloud with his bloody fist in the air, in the name of all he held dear for the sins to be unearthed to labor for his children and die a warrior He waited for danger to kill and spite his country a gladiator in another time with another her If only she were aware of the way he’d bare knuckled three armed guards outside her bedroom window or how he stayed up all night tending the fires so that she’d never know cold or loneliness but it never came It passed him over in every century a philosopher a teacher an artist a woman an apprentice a poet a lawyer a father a nurse a dancer a devil a leader and a criminal all couldn’t break character not even for an instant did he dispel a silent oath for anarchy He perished unfulfilled and unsung for generations wondering what he had done why visions of valor never came to be why he needed the fight why he dreamed of this lady’s beauty every night