Like any other night, the stars spread
thin like a starving childs skin,
His gently matted hair covers his young eyes
but his eroded face tells of another, more burdened age.
Rotten flannel and long hair cover his back but not the napalm in his stare
Burn bright the dark night,
let it warm even the
coldest of hearts
to dig deep in their leather wallets.
He sits up in a buddha like trance,
like when one awakens earlier than expected, to find a house still asleep and the silence unbroken.
He expects a cool night,
so he mumbles to the sky
He lies down,
and rolls this way,
back, then
over again
mimicing the farm hills from where he came from
he himself has come empty, the quilt
heaped over his body
His nitroglycerin smile serves as a reminder
Days of transcendence make a stillness in the dark
erratic air of his mind
Yet If you look close, you can catch flickers of steam and spark hustle and dive in his short breaths.
His voice speaks harsh, but his tender head
Human and numb
Filled with thoughts of tomorrow, he finds sleep is the best meditation.
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Submission Name: Napalm stare
