e q u a l i t y

I'd break into Mona Lisa's tomb
         to see
    if her eyes

                   really follow you all the way down

come on
down
and further
     because I'm

                        screaming
                        but
                        you're
                        too
                        far
                        away

neither of us blink anymore.
Or maybe we're blinking at the same time.

crossing my I's

dotting my T's

and the boulder of the last chapel

in the United 

Arab

States

in all freedom

and 

e      q     a    l      i    t     y

melting down to become only left-over

ashes in my left over fire,

like a savior who missed the date of his own resurrection    

returning his gifts 

boiling down until he becomes nothing at all.

I would've loved to see her GHOST

align with JUPITER

UNDERNEATH THE TIMID MOONSHINE

that wanted so badly to be sunlight. 

Yeah, maybe the moon has a few poems, but nobody's turning away from the sun.