About the Author

About the Author

how many pens wrote our world

what marks we've all made

did we draw the upside down?

was it our voice to usher in the cascade?

we rub our eyes free of sleep

note mirror-neuron yawns

reflections of power in small groups of bias

while we shoulder the fate of new dawns

pressurized diamonds

worth more than we're told

as the current currency's value

unearths and its codes unfold

how can we fix what we must've broken 

stumbling children in a world we were never taught  

pacing proverbial darklands, feeling out senses

playing marco polo modern hidden seek what's sought

all the while, ones granted early access 

tie tight the blindfolds they bought us to make

repackaging autonomy as a selfish enemy 

keys to our conscious as trophies to take 

trading timelines like collector's items

our intuition ignored, actions converted to pavlov's new bell

what should be alarms, sounded by the drivers

afforded means to steer us back to our shells

cruel smiles crack behind jaws unaligned by alter-egos 

they watch us perform penance after prayer to confess their sins

dizzy and defeated drowning in bubbles of limits

reaching for one another fingers slipping again    

knowing when our stories sync in sense 

and our blindfolds wear thin 

we'll see the story they wrote while we slept

reconsider the lullaby; so we can take back the pen