16/6

I lost my mile of stars to your days

Darling desires bloom to black flowers
under the overcast of faux fears
Scent of timid times reign
drizzling vanity, wary and weak
underwhelming yet beyond grasp
well intentioned, yet mercilessly cruel
I found but your remaining eyes
in a skirmish with all that has ever left you
looking for my lost stars

F

Now that he has washed ashore
after a decade full of dreams
he's thinking of her tomorrows
while she's somewhere being free.

He hopes her mind would keep him
deep in her unconscious streams
as she walks down her broken road
dust and sorrow on her feet.

He wishes her beside him
when the moonlight hits his street
if he could gather all his senses
his face may slide into her dreams.

Would she write him notes and letters
would she recall him in glee
would she stop and think of him
while she's somewhere being free?
so free.

3

I wonder how to tell you that I roughly know who I am. yet I'm ashamed when I laugh at your beliefs, because I can't fix what you lack. I wonder how to convey to you the meaning of things you can't chose not to feel, or comprehend. It is not your fault. you are merely a victim of institutionalized misbelief. I'm ashamed that you tasted the bitterness of this godless ground. I can't protect you from the truth you pass in favor of stone age stories. I can't help you when you take a saw to the branch you're sitting on. I can't help you even if it means the end of all our days. Don't forget that despite the contrast, I still feel for you. I feel for your beliefs and I feel for your simplicity. Yes, You've vetted all of them. The stories, the lessons, the practices. And I understand that you've convinced yourself. But I ask you, have you really? did you rid yourself of doubt? Because I have. Rejecting a baseless idea is much easier than accepting an excruciating truth. I guess it's a matter of perspective. Maybe you should wipe your lens.     

Dust

Can you honestly forgo this night, for the sake of days apart?
Time of ease in a dark descent, 'till emptiness fills your eyes.
Talk as if you know the make of tomorrow, the shapes unknown.
Talk as if you feel the children, as a piece of your own.

Softly moving to your end desires, chalkboard empty, black and wide.
feel the silk that is holding you, in a mass of flesh and blood.
What if we bury the kids on a sun soaked afternoon?
What if we never find the hands, that lay us next to their bones?

On a sidewalk across the street, you submit to blades of grass.
Feel the breeze on your neck and arms, see the green dance on your dime.
your past hollow like a cloud of dust, one that lays waste to your hours.
Now you're sunken with a heart of sand, did you hear me at all?