This invitation to distant hills
spills like a sunset into my hands.
Yesterday’s demands diminish
until barely a crumb of their former
and tomorrow is yet a stain
across the corner of my eye.
A sick sweetness dies on my tongue.
Has this been sung before?
Maybe just one more time,
before my lungs fill with sand.
Bland expectations grow dense
in the intensifying freeze,
my knees clamor with consequence.
It was under the pretense of safety
that I first arrived, a dumb youth alive
with the drive to be driven,
and ever since, I’ve striven for fame.
You’ll see my name like a blazing stone
in the sky, a Molotov Cocktail
launched at Heaven’s gate.
The whole firmament reduced to flames.
One must tame one’s experience,
not the other way round.
This torpid ground will be hallowed
by my blood if that’s all it takes.