the Why

we all need a reason to write

I'm not an inner city kid, I'm the furthest thing from it
And I can't hate-fight like
can't look like look after myself or
fear, thief like, 
i have never frozen, starved, gratified 
taken the night trains nowhere to home
lived
the way you have and haven't 
But

your face was louder than anatomy

louder than all the structure my pencil traced

louder than my heart could hear

and so i didn't listen 

I didn't.

Didn't see the thoughts eyes carried to me, 

the white washed walls

the breathing of the hard fear framed into what you couldn't call home

couldn't you hear my thoughts, of your snapshots,
the shots on that mantle
taken in leisure
mug shots
prison decor
the scaffolds were drawn in your nightmares.

your face sounds like graffiti

i can hear the cans

smell the fumes

taste the grit and the night's street-darklight

and 

you were always 

too much

for 

me

to smile.

why

why couldn't

you break apart in my arms

you lost homage

you lost

sight

sound

the touch of humanity

tried to reclaim it in the guitar strings your fingers bled to

become

this is reality

this is not your sin

not your soul

forget your fault because

this is not yours

and the spray cans smell like your hair but

you keep saying

"possibility"

"possibility"

we were south of main street but no one knew

i'm telling reality

to shut up now,

because your life is louder than the fires at our backdoor

I cant hear a thing.

lightning only strikes once  Cram it sense, you're anything but common

and terror reports only 12 dead from the storm.

Its like the world is telling us that broken things are easier to understand

we must be really dense or else smoking simplicity because the world is 

breaking our ankles one at a time

the grand canyon took how many millennia to form well we're 
falling in falling into 
city streetlights and the wrong crowds 6,093 feet screaming from the rim we are losing memory

we are falling 

hearts aching in 

china shard explosions

innocence suspended in time,

above the surface waiting shattered in corner slums by night

the #1 recorded killer of humanity is life.

i didn't hear you because my pencil broke 
when i looked into the whites of your eyes.

everett mills.