Writers Guild

Lights dim as we enter the room
Songs change mid verse
Desperate hands shake volume knobs to signal
The shoplifters are coming
The shoplifters are coming
Our hands are so deep in our trench coats
They’re coming out the inside
With a wave of yellow fabric
We steal chunks from the setting

Chipped paint from the radiator
Brown stone bricks from the chimney
A line of track lights
To help convey the mood
The floor boards are awash with stains
There might just be a story there
We peel the hands from the clock
Spread the curtains wide open
Because we can’t tell time
We can only show it

We decimate the setting
Suck all the color from the light
We sit beside you
Yawn, stretch, and pick your pockets clean

Be wary of the man with the notepad
He’s stealing the hemline off your skirt
The shade from your lipstick
The tint from your sun glasses
The smoke rings from your mouth
He’s pulling your belt through the notches
Peeling your polished nails
One by one

One day you’ll look up and find
You’re missing the bangs from your forehead

Be wary of the man in the booth
While you say your boss is paying you under the table
While you say you’ll never do oral again
Someone is transcribing
Dropping eaves
There are self-appointed stenographers all over the place
Vampires sucking the life experience
From your every sentence
Ink for blood
Stone cutters mining your turns of phrase
Unearthing new idioms
New quote book fodder
There’s a diamond in your throat
We’ll be there to catch it when you cough it up
We wait hidden in the corn stalks
Until your slang is in season
We reap what you sow

Be mindful of which words you choose to share
With the walls, the stalls, the common air
You may never know when you’ll hear them
On a stage, or a silver screen
Keira Knightley might win an Oscar
Performing something that came from your mouth

Your every running joke
Your every colloquialism
Might find their way
Onto someone else’s pallet
Someone else’s arsenal

We’re not in the habit of paying royalties
Pick pockets don’t worry about likeness rights

Some cultures feared
That the flash from the camera
Would steal their souls
But their is one device that can go deeper

It is mightier than a sword

Sure Wal-Mart sells guns to kids
But you can get a pen anywhere

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