The graffiti
that appears on these four walls
isn’t just scribble isn’t just scrawl
it’s magic is intangible
tangling us all
mystical symbols enthrall
They detect and protect
us all from bad spirits
Entities that would eventually suck spirit
from soul and bone
not leaving us alone
Who writes this graffiti no one knows
spirit guides hands that glow
in the throes
of a wind that blows
what it says nobody knows
except the writers hands.
In scripted dialogue
and camera click bait
is this our love story
or can heaven wait?
in the dreams of writers
will love be fore filled
if we become fighters
Will fate yield?
and will the type writer give us that happy ending
as the stage is set and then completed
Will we kiss and get married and die together or will we pretend
That love is merely written in our stars or will we have retreated
from that notion
that can be grown only come from a story we tell ourselves about each other
and that love and devotion
Is merely a set of complex conditions that come from one emotion.