dead horses saddled
and flogged the symbol of
futility ideographs of broken people damaged and confused forty years in the harness
dragging for the man at the end of my bloody
tether I pulled a smash and grab I stole an ounce of freedom if only in my head I took to scrawling words to score some gravy with my bread
those first were words
ugly but beautiful just the same so I rearranged their
order and
gave them different names some they
say there's madness in my method that I have a turn
of phrase but from where I stir the pot
all words look the same
there is no magic incantation no happy ever
after I may as well tear
up those words and post
them down the crapper
hear my voice: "Dagger".
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