I believe
I now understand
everything there is to be understood about you.
Under a ceiling of insulated fiberglass, I’ve identified
your daily schedule as a repetition of
sheltered meetings, structured lectures, and the inhalation
of black coffee dregs- each cup fixed at
the invariable price of two and a half dollars.
But in the end, all the caffeine did
was peel open your eyes
so you could stay awake
through the motions
one more time.
You justified that lethargy
by glorifying constancy as a symbol of stability-
but you know, when you
withdraw into that cozy nook
nestled by your company’s fake fireplace,
somebody, somewhere
ts losing their child to
a second chicago fire.
And the next time you see
dust mites dancing across the floorboards
of your fairytale home,
I promise you:
lying just outside
the scope of your concentrated isolation
there is a child
searching the streets
for warm shelter and the ease
of a single free breath.
So please-
think
before you let yourself cram
an entire life inside walls.
Manufactured air can’t conjure
sprite in your soul,
doesn’t plug passion into your eyes-
why, even your smiles stick to your face
like how you pin on your nametag.
No blasphemy, please-
God didn’t forge your lips so you could
build your life upon lies.
when that lingering taste of coffee
finally dies on your tongue,
go chase down fire instead:
I promise
a spark of life
is worth the smoke.