An Angry Letter to the Man in the back of the Theater

patience dear friends
the journey home that never ends,
or seems to not,
will be over soon
tomorrow or not,

and a tidal wave of curious bewilderment

will fill my mind of coffee and junior mints

pressing everything forward in joint aches and pains

that the birds will never appreciate your name

or the so call things that you plan to say,

faster than a speeding bullet the migraine sets in

desperate to jolt you into aches and strains,

and you'll stretch out your arms to heaven,

and your joints will snap back in,

as the hell of your body swarms you in killer bee stings,

but don't you see the truth on the other side

the simplicity of the escape plan

good exercise and good food,

breaded cabbages that just won't do,

tomato  paste and gumbo stew,

breathed on by rotting dragons breath,

as the grand wizard utter incantations,

so astounding that they'll capture the imaginations,

of the entire world,

and so again they steal the words,

of those that said them before them.

as the shuck and devour the shark and the coward,

they will see no hope for the "nopes" that they've heard,

and in the end the men who tell the tallest tales are birds,

crows and finchs,

and bottled neck dolphins that splash in the air,

and eat the tuna.

believe me if it makes no sense, its because you are not searching hard enough,

though that too may be a bit of nonsense,

granted if the truth were easy most of us would live easier,

than the twelve angry men who slammed the doubt into everything other man who just wouldn't pout,

in desperate times the cock crows twice,

but Jesus walked on water, while you can't walk to forgive,

and you are no savior, so no don't get up,

lay in your head and feel bad for the dead,

leave it alone, after all like you said,

there's nothing you can do,

the pain is too real, you can't follow through,

after all you are you.

and the fable goes on, 

it never really ends,

to tomorrow and beyond,

as the sharks circle you,

you'll find no friends,

in the void of your mind,

as you struggle to keep time,

while never taking a step,

never snapping a finger, 

never blinking an eye.

be patient,

this only lasts a moment,

but it'll hurt like hell

till the doves pull you out.

and amen said the preacher man,

with his big book in hand,

as he slammed his head down on his pulpit,

and the sound that set forth,

cracked on the masses,

of frenzied little termites,

who built with their shit,

and even though it smelled,

they stayed all cozy,

all safe,

and all sound.

One More Before the Night Ends

Did you see that squirrel scamper up the tree?
He hides where none of his kin will be seen
Sleeping so soundly in the dead of winter,
Where death claims all the trees around him.
Did you see him?
Nor did I, I knew the answer when I asked the question
For the squirrels are quiet this time of night,
Taking care not to be sighted by the eyes of the predators,
By those that seek to devour them
Did you know the truth to?
Sure you did, go and believe what you will,
The rodent doesn't need you to live through his plight,
He'll be snug, and he'll be cozy,
Faithfully cuddled around his babes,
With his little squirrely wife at his side.
And as those little ones suckle for milk,
He'll go out again, and shamelessly be involved,
In a tragic hit and run,
Oh no one will investigate as he drags himself to the edge of the road,
But his family will ponder in fearful curiousity,
The fate that befell the head of their clan,
And as the speeding contraptions fly by him,
And he sees in the snowy skies God's plan for his existence,
He'll sigh a deep sigh,
For none of this was worth it,
For even though he knows it, he never understood it,
The fact that he is what he is,
A squirrel in heart and soul,
Road kill on the side of the road.

For Every Excuse.

Go ahead chase the sun
But don't hit your head on the clouds on your way up
If you start to run a fever
Don't come screaming back to me
Be forewarned the sun is scorching
Pack lotion accordingly
Be patient,
For its a long way there,
Though you may find it faster to book a flight
If your willing to wait a few million in dollars,
Just take your time
There is no rush
The world didn't end,
Its still spinning,
Be careful,
They say you'll never make it,
And no to disappoint you,
But you won't.

Let's face facts
You failed again,
You aimed to high,
And you fell on your face,
Again.

It's a long way back to the earth,
And with eighty percent of your body burned,
You won't sit comfortably till your sitting in heaven,
And if your heaven is kind itll have a new skin
Just for you.

Let's just come to terms with the simple truths,
They tried to bleed you out,
They tried to save your life,
They tried to shoot you down,
And to pick you up and push you out to try,
Let's just come to grips with the reality of your impossible journey,
You never made it,
Because there was no way to get there,
You attempted the impossible,
Without considering a plausible alternative.

Let's just dream,
Why not dream,
I can dream,
Dream a dream.

Bask in the sun though,
Let the light shine through
Just don't forget the lotion for the skin,
Or it'll get the hose again.

I Think They Protest Too Much

They sing songs to all the children

Of birds and bees

And cigarette trees,

they give them the keys to the safest of places,

But changed the locks when trouble drew near,

And they didn't even leave the porch light on.

For a thousand years the people protested,

But the children didn't know,

That one day they'd grow up to care about,

The things they now, knew not of.

They sing songs to all the children,

About everything under the sun,

And when they cancer was done they told them to get by,

To lift their eyes to the sun, and fly,

With waxed wings, into their own oblivion,

But heed not they counseled,

For beneath them a trampoline with no springs awaited to break them in fall.

For a thousand years the people protested,

In languages were not their own,

They had come accustomed to the ways of their neighbors,

And after spying in so long in bathroom windows,

Were too embarassed to be foun out.

They sing songs to all the children,

Those that they have not shaken into nothing,

And those that survive are forced to contrive a way of breathing that they,

That they are not accusomed too.

For a thousand years the people protested,

And god knows they'll protest everything else for a thousand more.

Despite Alarming Applications I'd Say We're Set.

Despite the abnormality that you seemed accustomed to seeing protruding from the left most digit of my single right foot,
Do not be alarmed to learn what you may have already knew, that the infestation warrants no further distress from the housewives association of your neighborhood charter.
Dawn may come forth at any time, because the sun keeps no record of tracking the time, and will shine on the moons face, as a big brother overshadowing his simpleton siblings,
Dragging them forth through the muck and mire, and only just only giving them a chance to speak their minds, before stripping their tongues and demanding milk money.
Do you not see what I mean by this undergrowth from my right most digit of both my left hands, and the overhang of my under bite,
Decimal points may replace the percentage but that don't change BINGO to YAHTZEE and while you teeter with you tattered trinkets, I won't be caught in mangled blankets.
Destiny betrothed you to try and understand what woes you, but you can't, because fantasy breaks down the phantasms of your false orgasms, as chocolate permeates your taste buds,
Delight in this because tomorrow cocoa will be erased from the books, and flags will be hanged at half mass due to the delight of this tragic occupational hazard.
Doomsday serenades will trumpet out from troubled minds, and troubled breaths will flow out hardest, because trouble brings misery its own fancy company when the company men have nothing else to sack.
Drink some more wine, please it'll only do you good, and when you've had your fill could please check it, you know what I mean the disgusting growth that abnormally caters my whole soul.

Absolution and Pleas

Help me i'm a murderer of mercy
I am caught in my own contraptions
Send any survivors back to me and hope they can release me
Let them skewer me with their hates
And crowd me with their blame,
But make it quick, because this pain now is of my own devising
I am breaking apart, and they are twisting my arms
Breaking my legs and ripping out my innards
And bringing them to lay outwards,
Where is the help that they called forth to heaven,
Only a demons eye gleams towards my own,
I am twisting under his gaze, as he extends claws heavenward from hellish prisons,
And I can't tell which way is diagonally oblique.
My victims are merciless, and cruel,
Becoming vultures of my misdeeds,
And erasing my good ones like dry erase boards upon their common contraptions,
My blood spills upon this mortal coil,
And it is twinging, on a nothingness that carves the very soul of me
That they want to fill with their versions of my event,
I assure them, I knew not what I did, and only  hurt them for their sakes,
But this oxymoron makes no sense, it is repugnant,
And foul to the senses,
Tasting of rotten lies, and treachery,
And whatever good words  they spoke of me in childhood,
The teachers and mothers would never recognize,
I am a monster, a killer, and I know what i've done,
Don't forgive me, let me kill it in myself,
Because I die a little each time,
Regardless of how many times the infantry spears me.
And sometimes,
in a momentary misstep, I speak good forebearance upon their heels,
and they wander for a while under mine watchful eye,
Happy and gleeful,
Which they will always, but while they fall down the pit that i suddenly placed before them,
They only recall survival instincts, as harsh cutting roots break away into their faces,
It wasn't easy for me to dispose of this,
But I dispose of myself with ease so freely,
And when i'm out of here, i'll walk amongst the people,
Again.

Wings

The bird with its blue wings,
Flaps wildly on its broken song.
A note rings out,
and the note falls down.
The bird smiles,
As it floats upside down.
When it rights itself,
The sadness returns on back.
And the bird crashes to the earth.

The bird crawls upon the earth,
trying as it can to maneuver home.
Finding itself alone,
It cries for some hope of redemption.
But alone it stays,
Shamed for the shames of it faults.
It moves on through the brush,
As predators come upon it from the dusk.
And devour it with brutality.

And in the heavens the birds soul goes,
As it flies rightly,
In a justified light.

It Sicketh Me

Your poison words are monstrous to those you can suffice
They'll drop down dead and die when on your snake eyes are on our dice
The fabled truths of untruth prevent them from clawing out
But as the gasses fill the room they knew not what they did
As they reflect on the life passing through their glass eyes
They see the lies they led, and the people they bled out
And through their destruction they were brought by confessions
And guilt trips, and they know now, they ruined their families
Sons and daughters were shunned and rebuked
Other relatives all but cast aside or chastised,
They tried to tell the world how to live life just and right
While judging them, in what their fellows said was just speaking truths
they spit in the eye of the non-believer and then asked if they'd like to come inside
Spouting filth about the extreme violence, that they of course could never do,
But put into a box, and then boxed into a corner, they should murder their way through and through,
Claiming that in their persecution they were justified in their murder
When all the flamboyant wanted was to give them a welcoming hug
False prophets made powerful, and controlling over a congregation
Spew themselves upon their fellows, and the fellows lapped it up.

Gods Fly

I read a fable to my brother
About a fly and God
It ended badly for the fly
And greatly for God
The fly was placed in his place
And God remained in his place
A stern look on the fly
Who was then squashed by my brother
And God thought it was entertaining
My brother read it back to me
and his fly squashed God
But as it was a fly it did nothing
and God flung it across the room
you see the fly is doomed,
The fly is fucked,
The fly is biding time to wait to die,
By my own hands to times,
And what a brief time it has
And as they say an Angel gets its wings,
When a lonesome ole bell rings,
So a fly dies,
When God barely even tries,
To snap his fingers.

My  brother said to me that the fly was the most useless creation he'd ever seen

And I told him watch what you say, and I asked him are you questioning God's good works,

He shook his head no and proceeded to respond that he just thought God had gotten lazy

When he created the fly

Well sure of course he did, he got finished creating man, and all the beast of the fields and the birds of the air,

They all had to shit you know, so no God did not get lazy,

God got clever when he made the fly,

He took care of all the shit,

And the fly got to pester people all day and God made them fast enough to escape with their lives in tact half the time.

And gave us, 

On our good days

Some mighty good sport to destroy.

I read my brother a joke

And it went something like this:

What did one fly say to the other fly?

God don't give a shit,

how do you know,

He'd have invited us over by now.

But the other fly disagreed and he said,

God shits all the time,

What do you think man is?

Saturated.

There was a man I once knew who decided that he would paint himself green.  For what purpose nobody knew - except for him of course.  I met him while he was in the process of "greening" himself.  So I asked him, "Why are you doing this?"  And he responded simply, "Because why would I not do this."  Needless to say I was perplexed.  "Surely, its a political move, maybe environment?"  He should his head, "Why the environment?  Because im green?"  He laughed, "have you seen the environment lately, lots of more drab greys than greens."

It was a few days later when I saw him again, in a nicely pressed suit.  His hands and his toes were green, and his entire face.  I approached him and re-introduced myself.  He knew not who I was or why I chose to greet him.  "Perhaps you were someone I met in my other life, it's all a blur," he said, "during my greening process I do not remember a thing."  So I tried to remind him that I was the one who inquired if his green was a statement about our environment.  He shook his head displeased, and a look of disgust spread on his face, "Environmentalist? Me? Ha!"  He gestured to his whole self, "Do I look like I give to shits what happens to God's green earth?  It's not so green anyways, nowadays, anyhow, look-y here, greys, muted, bland, drab.  I'm just a cog in this machine."   "But why GREEN?!" I begged, "then if its not a statement, are you a Grinch?"  he didn't respond and pushed me aside.

I laid awake that night, dumbfounded by my own loss of comprehension, but my own laughable ability to understand this evergreen-ed bozo.  But I devised a plan, I painted myself orange and did it liberally from head to toe, around my ball sack, to my ass crack, a behind one and two ears.  And in this new disguise with a pair of pajama pants, and a tank top I strolled out to that usual spot.

Sure enough, there he was.  Green, but crying.  Some of the green gone under his ears where the tears had rubbed away the mask.  When he saw me approach he was shocked, and his sadness turned to fury.  He stuck a finger in my face, "Who the fuck do you think you are you son of a bitch.  And orange!?  You chose that ungodly color, you look like an oompah loompah you jerk!"  He pushed me into the street, and laid a blow across my jaw.  "You won't take this from me, you're a joke.  Let me be!."   With that he spit on me and made to turn.  And I could feel the fury building in me.  I rose to my feet as quickly as I could.  "Hey! you think you're the only one who can do something unique, I just wanted to know why you did it, I wanted an explanation."   This stopped him in his tracks and he turned over his shoulder, and quite frankly said, "I don't owe you a damned thing."

Peppered and Coarse

So you keep on dreamin'
You go and you get 'em
you're knockin 'em dead
till you're starving for bread
then your dreamin' became demeanin'
Settling for what ya' could get
Blanking out on what you wanted
Slowly breathing in exhaust till your light headed,
but not until you die.
A cry for help, because you feel you need it,
But don't want to ask,
And because you don't want to die,
Cuz how could you do it all over again.

From nothin, is where you're comin,
And they see you as blank, empty, forgotten,
your self image is in distress,
and you know that even if, you wore a dress,
You would never breathe openly,
in this closed off garage.

your locomotion is running,
your dreams are falling short,
But you'll find new avenues
your overwhelming passions will not be lost in translation,
Forget it,
Breathe it in lightly,
but don't inhale,
Just a puff,
For this is the edge, you've been here before,
And you'll never step over,
But out of morbid curiousity you peak over yonder
Not into a void,
But a three foot drop,

Come on,
Come on, Come on,
Fuck it.

An Apology

Relationships are easier said than done,

And when they end the words that rang so true always seem false,

But not for me,

I meant what I said when I said it

I believed it with all that I was,

And I didn't want to wait for anger to arise to be on horrible times before parting ways,

The forward progression was halted,

I didn't see a way past this,

I would have loved to continue, 

But I felt like I was leading you forward into nothing,

I didn't feel more,

And I didn't want to continue kissing you,

And saying we were happy,

When we were not.

But only certain things change,

labels, kisses, frequency of seeing one another,

But the comfort and concern the laughs,

Those can still prevail through friendship,

I have nothing to charge you with,

Your only fault was loving me too much,

And my crime was letting you down.

I didn't give you the time you needed,

Or the views to share,

You deserved better than what I was giving up,

I did what I did with a heavy heart, because I knew it would devastate you,

And I knew you were strong and I knew you would try to pretend that you could see me and be friends with me, too soon, 

And I know it pains you to have to do so.

I didn't want to abandon you,

After all that talking, caring, comforting,

How could I shut it off,

And I stand by my promises to be there for you,

You are trying to search for a way to blame yourself,

Don't, you did nothing wrong, even anger, or your hurt, it didn't drive me away,

We were together long enough for me to understand these emotional tornadoes,

I know its not fair

And I didn't want to be one of those people that shows it as not being fair

I am hurting too,

And the appearance of calm, and content that I wear on my face is too be strong for you,

I have no doubt I made the right decision,

and I will offer myself up to the very end point of friendship, 

But I cannot cross back into that plane of a relationship,

What would either of us gain from me trying to alleviate my loneliness,

I would still feel the same,

And I tried, dammit, I tried, and there was some progression but then it halted,

I am not a bad person,

I was just the wrong person,

But not even that, because that would mean admitting a regret,

And I do not regret the time I had with you,

To call you my girlfriend,

To tell you I loved you,

And because I failed you, it doesn't mean that it negates what happened,

Thank you so much, for becoming one of the important people in my life,

And if you will i would like to keep you as one, 

A trusted one in close proximity,

And I hope that we can help eachother,

When the tears settle, and the confusion subsides,

We will be okay,

You, will be okay.

I'm so sorry.

Old So-And-So

blankly I stare into the room,

dark brooding and full of doom,

and I shrug at what I see inside

the way they mope like someone died,

when the world around them is full of light

they stand on the defensive, it's fight or flight

ready for the worst to offend their sensibilities

like men shouting hoarsely of booze and titties

they, on the inside, are like a mortified housewife

her ears appalled by their manners strife

They say the world has gone to pot,

And whether this is true or not

its no excuse to sit so sadly

And steam so madly,

for what's past is past.

blankly I stare into this room

dark, brooding, and full of doom

and I want to set it on fire

turn it into a fanciful pyre

where troubles and worries come for reduction,

where if you come in with them you leave with nothin'

But the hopes of a tomorrow,

Where you're free of such sorrow

That you found in that shadowed box,

Where the happy and free constantly knocks,

Urging the hopeless into the sun,

To forget all their shit, and have some fun.

They always say it like it or not,

That the world has gone to pot,

and while they madly,

sit sadly,

the past is past.

blankly I stare into the room,

dark, brooding, and full of doom

And my mind wonders aloud,

If some hope could be allowed

Even if it should be force fed,

to save the dying from the dead,

Hope would certainly serve them right,

But they lock themselves up so good and tight,

Don't they see that what keeps them there,

What keeps in their minds, sorrow everywhere,

Is the thoughts they won't let go,

Because of what someone said, old so-and-so.

Dreaming of an Equilibrium - short story (kind of)

He stood by as the world passed him.  It wasn’t that he couldn’t move, it was that he  chose not to.  No one understood what Dillon really wanted out of life, but it wasn’t their fault that he never let it on.  He liked the simplicity of standing still, of dreaming in place, and he tried his best to stay positive in his immobile state.

Once upon a time he had momentum a real energy to his life, a forward motion if you will pressing up the small of his back to go where dared not, and his toes dug deeply into the earth leaving a trail of futile resistance.  

On a particular day in September he read it in in the headlines first, and saw the evidence all around him.  DESPAIR.  He had tried so hard to ignore it, the pending doom, the dread of a revolving aging planet.  It wasn’t the end of the world, but the world wanted it to be the end.  He saw the suicidal tendencies of society dragging at him, anchoring him in deeper to his frozen pedestal.  He didn’t like it, at one time somewhere in his past he had the satisfaction of being a wallflower on the outside, doing nothing but observing, but now it seems this whole planet earth had stopped spinning.  It’s revolutions continued, but its inhabitants chose to withdrawal and ignore everything around them.  

The skies were blue, the air was gentle, and yet no one noticed, it may have been overcast, foggy, and cold as everyone huddled in a mass of recluse.  Where he was once the only hermit, now hermits sprouted up everywhere.  The headlines didn’t help, the media called for people to live, but showed and told story after story of why they shouldn’t.  There was so much good to experience they claimed, but in a shower of caution and fear they bombarded them mostly with chaos, death, brooding, and lies.  

Dillon walked deliberately to his car, each step weighted down with foreboding, and he looked about him.  His suburbia home a clone of all the others, he a clone of all the others.  Or, were they a clone of him.  He felt lost in the common mindset, he needed a new start.

Perhaps he was a chain in a pattern, perchance he could break it if he just switched to what was once their view.  Maybe if he could switch his pessimism for optimism, maybe then he could achieve something wonderful.  Individuality.  Maybe then a harmony would return and he could then return to his original comatose state, maybe, just maybe.

Making the Swan Sing

I hear the sound of desperation depart your lips and yet I stand by idly
You reach a hand out for my help but I am frozen, a blanket of anxiety plagues my body
I ache and twist, trying to manipulate my unmanageable appendages
But to no avail,
As you drown, I can only watch helplessly, and as the world falls on top of you,
I turn away and walk freely.
Free of the chaos I am free to breathe, to move, to react, my blood rushes freely,
And my destiny collides with the clouds.
Somewhere under there you are broken, and crying, desperate and depressed,
Falsely believing angels on high will lift you forward,
Not realizing the decomposition that will consume your flesh,
But I can feel it, as I move to sit, to forget, as I move to remove myself from your ridicule
And my body returns to its original form, fragile and immobile,
I want to be comatose, but I realize what I did then,
I am the cause of my own paralysis, I lifted you up to the supports,
But I never reinforced the beams,
And there,
Way down there,
Beneath your despair, and desperation, I can feel it,
The crushing defeat, the hopelessness, and I ache to mend my mistakes,
Healing you would be my greatest triumph, but I have never been one to aim for simple victory
To win simply for the sake of winning,
To grasp the achievement of achievement,
Such trivial things I do not endure,
But to save a life, even if I am the cause of the misery,
Yes, i'll save a life.

Hypnotic Suggestion

For your entertainment I will now pull a rabbit out of my ass
And then proceed to spray you with laughing gasses
The fateful will squander all their beliefs when they realize the realization of realizing
And for the first time they will have to truly experience rather than being experimented on
And thought he magic act may offend the masses
Who will walk fatefully to five and a half classes
Disguising their greedy ambition in lost inhibitions and through condensation will pour out on the lands
With their briefcases, and ties
And lab coats with pocket protectors labeled hard cash
Cold and hard,
The disciplined disciples discern desctruction
Diluting the core of their senses into a whirlwind dance of melancholy
Due to hypnosis
Albert Einstein would write hooked on phonics and Hemingway a recipe for a bombardment of bombshells
And to fit it all perfectly into perspective perfectly
Do you hear the sound of hysteria?
It whistles like a bad bat, damned on the side of a damned cliff
Chasing car lights
and dodging magnets on the fridge
ABC's exist to teach us nothing but everything
And w don't take the time to even read on the lines let alone between
Look to the moon
If you want to see the sun.

An Act of Mercy

It is a hindrance in itself to claim this fact as fiction
but the whole hole has harnessed itself to its position
and it sits and festers with puss and disease
Waiting and rotting till it breaks away like a piece of dead flesh
and the grip from the hero's hand to his damsel grows ever weaker
As she flails her legs about nearing the rim of a disgusting oblivion
And though he wants to save her,
He would also like to loosen the burden straining the muscle and bone of his arm
The weight though it may not be much might be loosened
And though she may fall, she will be safe, though a little worse for wear
In the mid-day sun the colors would wilt and fade
And she would pass through a black and white canvas, and she would be pale
and expressionless
As she entered into her own recovery room,
Stumbling over the hand me down hospital furniture
Grasping onto a false hope that he might return to be her savior
But she will soon have to find a new god, a new light
Someone to raise her up out of this new slump
It was not selfishness that made him let go
Nor self preservation,
The longer he held on it would not only tear his muscles and shatter his bones
But it would shatter her bones and tear her muscles too
Dangling above that pit of grotesque spectacle
Dreaming up a way of being an escape artist,
But no where to run to
And while they both dreamed electric sleeps of one another
The rapidly increasing growth of the hold would spread to consume their whole worlds
Words and all.

Put to Task

I worshipped the feet below this cloud,
A backwards example of melancholy,
Torn asunder by miniscule people in big boy pants,
They wanted to fly, but failed to sprout wings
Even upon those that they forced out windows of skyscrapers
The pawns that they kept smashed under their thumbs.

But amidst it all is the disrespectful

The life beaters,

Forcing the joy out of the willing

Those who wanted to become something

And took in the lie of the big machine

Even those who willing took the knives against the innocent

They took their joys away

In the final hours we wish for more

In the final waking moments we want some kind of sign

A signal from on high, perhaps

But we should stop begging for chances to change it all around

Because we only seek to find solace in the things we hated

Whent he things we hated become our only options.

But in this cynical sky,

There is a silver lining

And golden rays of sunshine

But you have to pass through the fog

You have to pass through a raging storm

And lose track of all your patience

And rush in head first

But to be honest,

Not everyone will find it.

They will chase the carrot on the string

Dangling from the end of a stick

Attached to their heads

Hands extended forth

And trying wildly as if grasping for straws

and in the silence of their fall,

Nothing.

To Just Be There

In the blink of an eye I see I know not what I was saying
I could not fathom what I was doing
Jumping into the ocean without a raft or knowledge
I took this plunge to quickly while your feet were cemented to the ground above
Here I was drowning, and realizing
My feet were cemented too
What was I thinking, why was a grasping at a ghostly image
Not really there
But still a soothing presence
But now I think I understand
You spent so much time swimming amongst the fish
When you were meant to walk on earth
And you have only been there for a bit of time
But you were worried of doing it alone
Because some would make you go back to the ocean
But this time, patience is key
the time could be at hand or not
But you need time to take in the oxygen
And spread your toes in the grass
Welcome home to freedom,
I won't try to dive again,
Not at this moment, maybe not ever,
If we are not meant to be this place,
Built upon sand,
Good, but fleeting as the tide rushes in
Battering everything into flat surfaces void of dimension
I'm calm and collected,
Here I go.

Distances Measured in Promises

I'll start this new post by saying it has been a good long while, but this blog is still getting attention so I figured I should post something new, so here goes.

Despite what you say, what you do, how you feel, or how you think
There is still a white light that shines through your perforated vision
Something unique and detachable, reachable, perchance retractable
This solititude I feel, is incomplete, because no man should be solo
The falling trees and the shaking earth, your conscience battered and bruised,
Contemplating suicidal tendencies but never suicidal action
You balance your belief system on the lies of your childhood,
And fall into your pits of fire like they were pools of water
And although you contemplate brighter times, you repeat dark days
Finding fault in the broken glass, but still embracing it
You are bloodied and broken
Crying out, but holding on to this rageful, spiteful vengeance,
That you continue without fault to do to yourself,
Here in this place about you, there are clouds of diminished capacity,
You see me fragile, and distraught, a smile upon the face of a porcelain doll
But strength abounds for under the fragile is rock
So when the earthquakes , and the tornadoes bruise your ego, and your passions
I will still be here, a little worse for wear but in tact,
It isn't blasphemy to curse God for this, because he cursed us first
Made us human, made us suspetible to mistakes, and stupidity
To knowledge and foolishness, he gave us not only the tools for our creation
but also the tools to lead to our ultimate destruction
I don't pretend to be a philosopher, nor would i want to be,
These impossible questions, with ridiculous solutions, since there are none
Are not reality's.
to the point at hand however, we are not perfect little flowers,
But I am not a rabid dog,
Perhaps a simple red fox,
Weaker, and vulnerable, but boxed in a corner, prepared to defend, and survive as best I can
Maybe the world will swallow whole that goodness that I want to stand for,
and maybe one day you can see this too, all of you, the you's out there in all this world,
Catastrophe is at hand,
But it is avoidable, and I will be here till i'm not,
And then i'll be gone forever if seasons do not change.