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?