Flying Solo

Flying solo

up where the burn’s low

I’m invisible,

searing soaring stardust

hidden by the clouds,

Imma shroud

o’er the light of this soul,

if you don’t want to know

you don’t have to peek

I am only open for the weirdos (come and seek)

—

Flying solo

late at night I cry slow

to deny the sorrow crow

another song,

in the antechamber to silence

I store all my violence,

all my warheads of words;

this poison of isolation

leaks shifty grades of liberation,

lets me peer out through the veil of the universe

and cut her on the birth of my works:

I’m flying solo

as a glow moth

like an angel who can’t lie low

wears the moon’s dying halo–

devastate this desolate dawn with me,

drown in the liquid of my silent lungs

and enter the chamber of my heart

where the bullets flow

the hurricane grows

and these songs sigh like swallows

hatched in nests built between hollow warheads;

come play in the groves of my imagination

because I’m tired of your games–

rule one of ground zero, know I’m flying solo

with the ozone

heeding no flock but my own head

and I’m jealous enough for treason to the earth,

razing grounds who raised me up for worse.

I could let loose a hailstorm,

call all the crater creators sky-scorned

and pour meteors into flaming forge

just to water them with tongues of acid,

I could cry with the swallows and crows for hunger

never fulfilled

for wonder

softly killed

I could

cry

you know

but I’m flying

into the worlds

taking this burn down solo.