Behind the Screen

Flash finger,
Star stinger,
Late night beamer,
Overstretched light years,

Behind the screen,
A different system,
Listens silently,
Marked by a closeness tighter than the earths web,
Giving everything to the simple act of moving forward,
I don’t know much about the lines people draw inside,
I fall through them and can’t get a sign through.
So far behind the simmering sands,
I know there’s no end to this design,

Scrounge up some star flakes,
And blast me off again,
With rocket pops, paints, pimps, and write ups,
Hang me in the stars, clouds, and skies of the atmosphere itself,
In the immeasurable so I can always be anew,
Please,
Or the moist end of town,
The sharp end of the sword,
That only come together when I know it’s too late,
And all the records still play,
But I remain a stranger,
to pay off the winners,
And let the losers shake me down for the rest,
It’s gonna take everything to fix this mess,
All the trigger happy wagered and wired bets,
To come clean with the windscreen,
and the verdant depth in the wind,