The words come to me in little bits through out the night
Little scatterings at light
I am not sure they have meaning.
I drift between sleeping and awareness
Not sure if any of it can be grasped.
Can be held onto
Remembered.

They took you voice and put it in a glass
That now sits on the shelf.
The words are glittering light
Silver
Shining in the night.

Where I used to hear you calling to me
Now I see you illuminate.

In the chaos I do not know how to make sense of this
But the light leaks out anyway
No matter how they try to contain it.

Eventually I awake enough to scribble a few things down.
I do not know how to make sense of this
In this place held upside down.
I used to know how to walk on the ground
And now I crawl across the ceiling.
I don’t know why.

I can’t make sense of this.
The jacked boot thugs on the street of the once beautiful city.
The men willing to follow a mad man straight off a cliff
Into the pit of hell
Words used to have meanings I understood.
And now we argue about the meaning of militia
And what shall not be enfringed means in the same sentence as probable cause.
The meaning seemed evident to me before
But they argue I am wrong..
And now history has garbled them with jurisprudence over the years 

The words used to have meanings.
Now it is only what nine say it is.
The nine in black robes that hide the fact that their bodies have become only words.
Their bones the only structure left
Once they decided the only thing that mattered was their opinion which could be bought and sold.

(I think this is actually two poems, but it’s what came out of me this morning. May update it. Dreams were thick this morning)