Inventory of Our Words

They crack the safes

hidden in our portrait of communication.

an  intercourse of social science,

flooding the streets of civilized city structures,

isolating outstretched pastures beyond urban diction.

We paint the portraits

of expressive thinking.

They map the blueprints

for oratorical robbery.

The rural fires of our desires are diminished.

The ashes scraped into our

six foot deep imagination asylums.

They stock coffins of our ideas

and do inventory on our intentions.

The sky box is shrinking slowly.

A blanket is draped over in refusal.

We stand inside

Eyes up

Heads cocked

In awe.

The sun sinks behind the dirt piles

crafted by spade shovels

that tear away at the grey soil,

like the escape artists

that tear away at our grey matter.

Anchoring our escapes,

we stand in the burial grounds of our words.