Balancing Scales

Jinna with the silver

Streaked black hair

Bronzed her punk boots

The day they wore out

Holes in soles

Cracked leather creases

Took a beating from

Gravel and concrete

Tar speckled

Reckless dance partners

Spilled beer

Caved to sensible shoes,

Utilitarian life,

Practical soul

Still aching for the

Painful pointed toes

That made her kick and scream

Ill fit, inducing a fight

Against any injustice

Now a prop against

A door held partially open

To keep the

Comfortable fit

From forgetting the silver tress

That Jinna still proudly wears

Into justice halls

With her black robe

Now wielding a gavel

stampmouth

watercolor crankdream

painted on inmate canvas stream

fuel another steelconcrete spasm

and Pinny

(you know Pinny)

(Pinny talks)

Pinny rambles on and on

and the watercolor crankdream ends

and another begins

another letter

another letter

another watercolor crankdream

tear it carefully

(and slowly, may I add)

the dream takes Pinny

Pinny takes the dream

and a burn like a burn like a burn

and he can't get more

and can't get more

and the body shakes

(it never goes away)

and insects crawl up inside

the flesh moves and crawls

with a million little legs

in the godawful

watercolor crankdream

“my teeth are moving”

says Pinny

and Pinny talks

Pinny talks

blood trickles down

where the flesh gets picked

and the flesh gets picked

where the dreams are stripped

stripped to the waist in a concrete dream

and blackink watercolor crankdream stream

overflows the half-stripped bank

bank of flesh

bank of america

bank on this, my crankmouth man

as the watercolor crankdream

stopping slow

and starting

stopping slow

and a steel post

steel door

steel post beam

reek sweat and steam

the bone is hard but the steel is chill

and the watercolor crankdream harder still

contusion, they said

hemorrhage, they said

no one spoke of the

million little legs

in the godawful

watercolor crankdream

Pinny

wet and cold and stiff

in a fluidpool on concrete dream

eyes all wide

eyes all glazed

rainbow tongue

hand clutching the letter

of the watercolor

watercolor dream

Hooked on Fiction

Book hopping from

One scene to the next

Sucked in by

Centuries old mysteries

While browsing through

Crime alley

Killer car, karate spar

Head turning

Romance far

Away, idyllic air,

Tears falling

Too old, too young

For blue hair

Music lair

No liquor spared

For the

Baton twirling

Rebel queen

Competing with

Dusty spurs and camp

Signals

Lavender dueling with clover

Meadows

Enlightenment from

the stars

All vying for an ever short

Attention span

And a tall stack

Of reads

Leave Me and I Call the Cops

clap your hands again

and jump

scream a little

scream a little

squeal with glee

and a whole-hog food stamp spree

smoke some weed

and lie

lie

lie

take his car

and take his food

and take his mail

you know he's screwed

sweaty stink of

rancid fat and urine

the incense

burned before your gods

limp on the left

limp on the right

(or is it the left?)

“poor girl”

enjoy the rancid fat and urine,
please

Fresh!

Blue liquid enabling

Frothy foam mustaches

To repetitively kiss and shush

Malleable sand,

Unyielding rocks

Based on Prompt #164 at We Write Poems