The Trees of Rome (Roam) have Fallen
By Nic Custer Jan 2010
"Evolve...
like me."
my old man
said, through
his art.
"Start in
your dreams,
you can't change
the world
without changing
how you perceive.
I understand why
people Believe
the T.V.,
you have to have
faith in what you see
and i trust
the shows have never once
described reality."
My old man speaks through
actions more than
words, leaves out the
horrors or the burns
that he suffered
before i was born
and that he will never fully share.
His Acid-washed genes
come in style
when im a teen.
And the books i read
describe this being free.
So i see beyond these eyes
existing for the lies
i find truth in
where i hide.
But i don't find
Anything much.
My parents'
actions birthed
the seed
which is blooming
inside of my own trunk.
Yet I am sunk and
Oppression is dooming
me back to the lackluster
I am plush, sir
I am blustery
like the wind falling from the trees
Im Nic in ash and delights; See,
and, Dad, she is falling for me.
(From the collection Delirium, Delirium.)
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