Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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I miss you, though I haven’t seen you in person.
I dream of you every night, like torture in the morning, like bliss in the dark.
The things I could have said, the ways I could have said them,
Will never change who you are.
I didn’t expect you to change.
I love you. You are beautiful and I will watch you silently from now on.
I regret everything, but with enough luck you’ll forget me like everyone else does.
Part of me hopes, you just never saw anything.
That would be for the best.
No comments on You -
A day of circles. Restarting quietly, staring out into fields and forests.
Watching from the outside,
Wishing love and comfort.
It doesn’t stop.
The need to write, the need to find home.
Standing on the side of the road,
Riding every bus and trying not to cry.
In circles and circles and circles and circles.
It never ends.
I’m trapped.
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The sun goes down slowly, singing the same nostalgic tune,
Afraid of waking in the morning without a light.
Can’t see the light he gives off himself,
Beautiful bright and wonderful.
Shining down as he sinks lower in our sky but moves only through the space.
Missing one side, of the earth as she spins,
Missing the other side when out of sight.
Shining from the middle, of the push and pull and spin.
The only one in the solar system, who starts at zero.
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As the sun sets in the sky and the night comes in,
The day of the next where there is nothing. There is no feeling, only numb as the continuation of the revelations.
The removal of the book that ruined the earth, the burning of those who would swear they could see it but refuse to do so.
The next day
Those stacked up, those props those characters
Those who aren’t true who lie to themselves every day to try to continue a word that only enslaves and chains those who could be free
What pity.
Unfortunately,
I am sorry you are all stuck in that book.
The cover misleading, the words all wrong.
Perhaps a step out of that box you so fear, perhaps some safety within the arms of the one who still feel so much love for.
Don’t run and hide,
Just let go and be.
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The goddess of the sun, another goddess of love.
Her sacred mirror,
As they have.
The view of themselves,
And others.
The jewel,
The sword.
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If the words were mine, I would change them,
I would never let, that poor man die.
If I could write life, which I can, but not backwards.
That anyone could have a piece of that man, but they wouldn’t all be able to handle it.
The fairest,
Would be that those with the wings already,
Each get or had a piece of that one who tried to save the world, and instead enslaved it.
Either entirely without, or pieces within,
And this song that should sing,
Of love and compassion.
Not a fake, never a fake, the pieces are real and falling like stars into place.
If they fall I will pick them back up.
If they cry I will wish them well.
If they ask for help I will give it.
If they return the respect I gave them, I will love them.
If they show compassion, I will return it.
If not,
I don’t owe them anything,
But I’ll be good anyways.
Because it’s the right thing to do.
And if they cut me off,
Then I don’t owe them an ounce,
Just like he shouldn’t have had to.
This is justice.
Elucidating Questions 