Warning Shot Not HEEDED

Look in my eyes—

it ain’t a life you wouldn’t survive,

it’s a timeline shriveled like vine-twine writ in dry brine

from a mind fried tryin’ to rhyme why it ain’t died.

 

Your smile? lined lies.

Mine? wide, quiet cyclone in the night skies,

I stride by while your pride tries fight-signs

but the hindsight spine of your lines whine.

 

Talkin’ meds keepin’ you alive?

Cute.

I’ve been patched by astral surgeons with nervous systems

built from curses circlin’ earth in prisms—

and you chirpin’ like that earns wisdom.

 

“Old dog”?

Bro, your bite never hit tarmac once.

You bark in punch-card stunts,

I bludgeon suns with lung-rush hums—

your dust cough gust slump crushed under one thumb.

 

Right cross?

I write across fault-lights, chalk nights

with off-white scorch-marks warping porch lights,

your torch might spark but the source ain’t orbit nor bite.

 

Sniper sight?

My iris slice entire spires when the wire hums—

you require guns,

I retire lungs from a mile up with mild shrugs.

 

Bridge toss threat?

Please—

I bend ridgelines thin,

slip spirits in wind-runs grinning while your hymn spun flimsy.

You flim-flam grim with tin limbs.

I trim rims off dim kings when the brim brim sings.

 

“Defeating you a dream”?

…Nah.

Even your dreams sleep cheap,

leak grief in weak beats,

seep beneath bleak peaks

’til they squeak when the heat speaks.

 

Your flight?

still grounded.

Mine?

a sound-path hounded by cloud-craft,

loud wrath crowning the sky-map.

Your life raft snapped.

My tide-lap drown it.