It’s been a while since we’ve spoken.
My hands and pen started buzzing,
Like a druggy needing its latest fix.
A single word triggered within mounds of muscle memory.
The body, rhyme schemes, and adversity all came crashing.
Like the ocean waves blasting against bricks.
The words that jumbled around in a head full of liquid clouds
Trickled down the profiles of misers’ mechanical limbs.
Like the machines of the highest members of our society want us to believe.
No hope!
No peace!
They all began chanting.
Pitch forks raised high
Blackened skies covered the whites of their eyes.
Like the scent of copper stripped, encouraged to die.
Thumped metal and wooden torches filled the atmosphere.
Ears masked with tar and muddled tears
Like the repression of so many gone, yet never forgotten.
Nicole Johnson 
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