Omenomics

 Omenomics: I will sell you the future 

If you believe me enough

And I will point to things

Birds

Stones

The way your dreams burn you clean

Until you wake up covered in sweat

Heart beating

And I will sell you back your own anger

I will be the mirror by which you flex

And I will point to how the movement

Of stars and gravity paint your muscles

No one likes to dream alone

And they are never free