Crush me down   An aluminum can   Poke me with a fork and half baked yam   Toss me in the frying pan   I would never bite the hand   If I could be sure the hand that feeds me   Feeding frenzy on prescription words   Swallowing the silence that returns   Falling in footsteps petrified by time   Under madness are familiar faces   And you are just a semblance of before   Following the dust and calling it more   These are the seeds   That beseech the leaves for cover   Hiking canyons where people have fallen   These are places where some learn to fly   Breaking escaping molds that are growing   Stepping over cutting off the ties