THE TASTE OF RELEASE.

Skulking the streets, stalking the trees,
Picking through the scattered rubbish,
A chipped glass, cuts my lip as I sip,
Bleeding red wine into the rain collected.

Bandaged knees, crumple beneath me,
Strike flint and steel against mind's tinder,
Up the mountain, stumbling, crumbling rock,
A cracked bell, it does not ring again.

Short-sighted by the depths of the bottles,
Flowers denied chance to bloom and blossom,
Walk the empty garden, heir only to rotten leaves,
Eyes screwed tight, he watches patiently.

Lose the script and scale the cliff face,
These unchartered lands without milestones,
Across the light, the pack becomes weightless,
Clinging on amidst murky water, immovable.

Shattered chains, lay panting on the riverbank,
Along the boulevard, humbled by the majestic tree,
Keep old newspapers and write your songs,
Revere the winter warming, his burning torch.

Shining bright like light through my eye's prism,
Splitting a rainbow with the flash of a camera,
Dousing fires that rage deep underground,
Leave clothes to the salty air and taste release.