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


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