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We can't speak.
So we use our tongues instead.
Soft exhalations, I breath you into me.
If my body wasn't poisoned with your liquor lips, I wouldn't have muttered....
I miss you.
****, I miss you.
The days pass faster with your presence far into the forest of our past.
Where we remain until
you whisper
those three
little
syllables.
I've gone through plenty of loss in my life.
And I promise this isn't going to be the poem you think it's going to be.
So anyways as I was saying,
I've lost quite a few people who were important to me,
and I went through the grieving process,
blah, blah, blah you know the routine.
Keep in mind these deaths were not easy deaths to deal with.
I've lost three dogs, a cat, a hamster, countless fish, an aunt, a cousin, a grandma, and a grandpa.
None of these deaths were easy to deal with,
even the animals
but I recovered fairly quickly.
I learned that they were in a better place.
But I never felt I really learned anything about life through these deaths.
They were all long coming,
the animals were old,
and so were the people.
All of the relatives had terminal illness'
so we had time to prepare ourselves.
It wasn't until I was sitting in my basement,
reading a post on Facebook that I realized how short life is.
I came upon a post about a man who I work with,
he is a manager and the head chef at the restaurant.
I read that he had been in a fatal motorcycle accident.
Out of all the people in the world,
he would not have been my pick for "next to die".
He died at a heart-breakingly young 41 years of age.
I had never been close with this man,
he was simply a chef at the restaurant,
who occasionally yelled at me,
and questioned me about my *** use,
and my tattoo.
But hearing about his death,
broke my heart even more than losing my family members did.
I thought of his children,
a 5 year old and a 1 year old,
and I found that I was much sadder than I expected to be.
His wife and children had seen him a day prior,
and then the next thing they know,
he was just gone.
No goodbyes,
no last words.
Now I'm not writing this to make anyone sad.
I'm writing this for myself,
and others who needed help to realize
how beautiful,
and breathtaking this life actually is.
His death has helped me realize that.
I may not love myself everyday,
but I love everyday, that I am blessed enough to open my eyes.
It's become a cliche to say how short life is,
but it truly is.
It's sad,
but it's also beautiful at the same time.
We get one chance,
one.
I think that's amazing.
We're given this one chance to do whatever we want,
knowing that we aren't immortal,
we will die in the end,
not knowing when the end will be,
and we still decide to keep on living.
Hoping everyday will give us something more.
One more little memory to take with us for the rest of our days.
So after I'm done writing this,
I'm going to go to sleep,
and hope that when I wake up tomorrow,
I will still realize how beautiful it is just to be breathing.
RIP Dino.
We are not born with hatred swirling around in our skull
It is something that is built within the structures of our environments
This civil war whose bombs wake us up in the morning
and whose grenades disturb our sleep.

We are not born with ******/******/******/****/****/**** on our tongues
This is the product of this billboard society that teaches us
to spit daggers rather slip our tongues around and caress

We are not born in fear of the other
It is not genetics that implore us to engage
in the ongoing battles between
     fat and skinny
     black and white
     religious and faithless
     straight and curved

Our world is a wasteland
filled with our soulless cardboard cutouts
doing nothing more than occupying space.
We examine our fingertips in search of identity
and are shown skin that has been scrubbed smooth
by the buffers created to stop our minds from
expanding too wide and our dreams from growing too big.
We look to the too-distant stars for directions but must turn to a foreign map
to tell us where home is.

What we are born with is excitement.
With adventure running through our veins.
With eyes the color of flawless wonder
and skin scarred with wisdom.

We were born with longing.
Longing for a great escape.
For rebirth.
We live.
We hope to love.
We die.
When we die,
will this world end up being what we had hoped it would be?
I want to live.
But I need to figure out what that means first.
I've been taught to believe in God.
I think I do.
I haven't really figured out what God means though.
When I think about it now I suppose I might not.
I don't want to understand everything.
I try not to ask for much.
But there are some things I suppose I would like to understand.
Do I really need to spend my life trying,
so hard to please this unseen entity,
just to get to "eternal happiness"?
I'm tired of hearing the excuse,
"God would be angry with you"
just to get our children to treat each other with care and kindness.
I believe in faith,
I don't believe what it's turning into though.
I don't want to just have to believe in God.
I want to believe in this life.
I want to believe in the earth,
the sun,
the stars,
one another.
And when my time comes,
whenever that may be.
whether he is there or not,
I hope that I was the best person that I could be.
Because in the end,
we only have ourselves,
and I don't want to end up with a "me" that I can't live with,
because if eternal life does come after this.
I don't think I could survive.

— The End —