All my life I have been fighting demons,
That didn’t quite exist; so I climbed on
Top of their heads to feel the breath of stars,
That exists in a black void, with tentacles.
I see, I am that breathing star, pissed
Off our customs imprison the homeless man,
In soggy blankets, staring at Christmas lights:
Our Christmas tree has butterflies with gold wings.
How we move blindly through the dark, because
Throwing on the lights would mean we did a thing,
Held hands in public, screamed bloody murder,
Entered the lion’s den of politics, said, goodbye!
But I am sitting on a streetcorner, I watch a child
Frown at an old man who passes by too slowly.
I watch the neon in windows of words, I watch
The sun climb over streetlights that cast shadows.
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