breaking like parched dawns seeing down the road construction of allegory and whey

hallucinating clandestine footsteps where there were no parking meters or joy
a scared couple tells the driver dreams are not real like there is an icon in the sentence
reverberations of captured stashes of survival gear gleam in office cubicles
tempting fate with sinews of milk and dust and the cadence of aplenty, scorching

Sam Beam cries on Sunday mornings and as a distraction in preparations for exams
summoning the sun after the rain where the dew is our thoughts of loving partitions
Did you ever know that I would step in and take you off course, like a stolen falcon,
reaching into the story of your small steps that you refused, and lifting you in flight

the united states does not understand how one portion maybe be detained by another
instead seizing on the opportunity in laughter while using their crosses to dig graves
breathing stolen taste on waters and waves that do not give a cathedral a last chance
this is the only ramification that bleeds for the host in their stunning setting on pasture
denoting crumbling waves of evaporating heat from the streets of cities and carting miles
forgetting we could have chosen bravery, but instead convinced ourselves of impossibility