listen here brass, you can pry me from anything for it is with unhinged door i sleep. my dreams are without interruption or regard for day and night. Fluid in the slim slowly wound alleys seen for mile stretches from the blinking gateway of blue eyes. all paths are yours to torch. you may know my money and my time, may cause me to sob to the stovetop’s reflection, may lead me like an ATM card into dollar stores, but you could never take this away from me. it was cast for moses, it lay scribbled on ancient lovenests, it is on my palms and in my NYPD mugshot. i am but forecasted in the braille scriptures of genetics, i walk the same line and cast the same growl as my own created ancestors. it is with a chisel that i write the songs. you couldn’t take death from me with that. in fact, nothing is better than blood on guitar strings. i know now; i guess. a past grabbed hold of my coat collar with pristine fist. a future gave but my own eager hand.