sketched.

i think she needs a pen.
i think she's right on track
he's got a fast car.
and she needs to get away.
they're not afraid to crash.
it happened all year long.
pathways to the moon
rockets to the sea
and oceans inbetween
mocked.
they'll mock them.
from the background painted credits with gasoline need.
horses hooves to engines.
i think she needs a pen to roar.
he thinks he needs the cash to.
but mostly just belief to.
beside herself with grief.
beside her he's undone.
all these preconceived notions have withered
so sit beside her.
sit and wait gently, defiant son.
listen and talk straight
to see her soul
to see her face
unveiled beneath the golden sun.
your darling, then.
she'll stand.
burn the maps.
draw the maps.
and then, with pens.
take hands.
and run.