Oh Rats!.

What of tomorrow?

Our stage: these streets.

Hung with harrows and a silence of sunrise.

the question never asked “what of tomorrow?”

another one under the sun to get things done,

or not, forget-about-it faith in small talk and universal uncertainty.

or of word lit lips under a listless, luminous sky…

Rats, the wispered wind

winds by,

take know-notes,

mental markers for these times.

Rats,

I found myself a tomorrow.

found flare, words.

not the Californian dream.

not as a soul teeming,

no. just a rat of tomorrow.

consciousness reeling,

another knight surrendered post @ our night’s watch,

years, time, and stories all within

a faith in sun-dialed ‘time’

The sun shown….

;solace in shadows.

“Our youth went by at

a glance.

Oh Rats!

Startled, skittering somewhere, expectant of the world’s distaste;

and we don’t care.

Having found the ground,

paving our time thus-forth,

grace is meant to fall from. Blissful at the start; but I sang

tomorrow today; and with slaughtered hours at my feet, only

my eyes held admission to the truth that I, Rats, have skittered streets, with broken, crooked teeth. The sunrises became my only flirt with faithless hope, bleak reminders of friend’s future fates; coughing and dying in front of unsolved mysteries of the remainders of who we couldn’t be.

oh Rats! What we could achieve, with flares today, of words; we could paint the dreams of tomorrow today with intrinsic descriptions.

But now, bind admission to sorrow with song.

Strung taunt with years traveled. Life became a battle

which bring us here today; to knight tomorrow.