Poetry Poem by Shannon Harney

I jot recklessly
on lines of luxury-
Pretentious symbols held heavily.
Oh,
I treasure the flavor!
My voice is tired and sore
from swirling, spurring, stirring
never less and never more.
It pushes me tediously,
balancing the concept of equality.
Lethal is its residence
and the power it gives me.
Heart from a connector,
mind from the sea,
Where’d these words come from?
Not from a caretaker,
no not from me.