vincent armone (1/24/70 / Brooklyn)

There its lays in waiting stillness.
Waiting for me to tare it open.
reach inside and pull out its contents
tossing its empty body on back on the table
like a discarded carcus.

Yet I fear it, horrified of its presence
this white thing so lifeless
holds the message of my fate
such a job, for something so stationary

In my heart I no I must proceed
to stall is foolish
for destiny is not written in stone

But for now it will have to wait
like my country for me
wait for me
until fate joins us as one