give it up

i step on tile
because i prefer the cold
the slower
the heart beat equals longer life - even grey life
is a way of living i suppose

i have always been forced
to look up to you, drown myself
in sky, wear colors that do
not become me, jewels are for spoiled dogs
and feathered whores - i want

black on black, grey
on black and the chill of ice
brilliant and blue
over a vodka soul - slow it down
burial rites have become all
to common in the land
of no-bodies, give it up for a those
creatures who walked these
streets without reservations, give it up
for a grey existence - before kingdoms
and presidents wrote
their own biographies and man
did not need rainbows of promise
or abstract art

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

posted for Mag 99