Untitles

Untitled
BY DANNY ALLRED
Unlock your steel pathway, come unto the world of where
No one comes, no ones goes but one still remains
Upon the ceiling, draped with ill communication becomes a town
I called home, beneath the bottle that is sealed to me lampshade
Discovered is a sea of intellectual pasta, and deep out of it woodwork of the sands creations.
I only wish I was Rasta, this wouldn't seem so...real.
This terror of place where you ground on run, maybe if we really were free
It would be a hostile nation, truly you never lied but nor have you ever truthed
What do you call yourself?
A man? A woman?
But only one name stays on the tip of my wordspeaker
Regret.