© Nov. 1, 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Eyes are dancing in the wisps of smoke.
Shapeless like sick souls ready to choke.
I stabbed a blind man while eating
To cook like fine dining while loving.
Storing disposable emotions,
I kill for the perfect recipe
Like mermaids from a thousand oceans.
A trail of soul food won’t set me free.
Love can’t be blind; love has to be Braille,
But hell is the closest Love I’ll find
In the abyss like a wishing well,
Aging with no home or food in mind.
I’m thirsty; there’s no going behind,
To say grace at oceans, for I’m blind.
Isaiah Lawrence 