Kerosene Creases

Skeleton sky
full of ribs and keys
pulling apart

There are fires gathering
in the folds of your flag

A little birdie
stole my secrets
with its tongue
bleeding steadily
along the electric wire

Too many watchmen
babbling the wrong warning
atop a tower of idols

Muddled messages
stare back blankly
from the reflection
of muddied waters

Better tend to your shadows
the only herald that can save us

Scott Thomas Outlar is a lover of truth and enjoys researching philosophy, psychology, politics, spirituality, and any other facet of consciousness in the pursuit of reaching a higher state of vibration. He also enjoys writing rants, poems, essays, short stories, and prose-fusion screeds covering such subjects. Scott Thomas can be reached at You can also watch and/or subscribe to his YouTube Channel Read other articles by Scott Thomas, or visit Scott Thomas's website.