Pen Slits

our pen slits through the dark fabric of space

skeletal forms of the night, we soar,

hidden from sight

thin skin connected like liquid drops of steel covet each meter of our limb as we scheme and we decline.

but what is this! a road turns upside down and buildings drop into death

turns out, it caused quite the unrest,

a need for the unseen frame yielded a search for the slit of our pen

ruin was never the worse,

only the friend, the fire, the spark,

a bulldozer that broke down the vault

a revelation of the grand absurdity of it all--

the vault was never hammered in place,

there never was a vault to begin with

only utter devotion to a nonexistant reality created from the mind

wake up -

draw.