Building up my anger,
      brick by brick.
Laying a wicked heart upon
the cement of hurt I feel;
And if I were a street— everyone would
now be correct to walk all over me,
      brick by brick.

A bridge, to gap two parties as the
middle ground to all their arguments
—an abandoned apartment, filled with
all the tenants, of memories well lived,
      brick by brick.

A madhouse, for all of the creativity;
to out there for the world to even understand
So brick by brick, they lay
Day by day, I try not to build a
wall around my constructed smile,
      brick by brick.

Each of us is a world
Self-contained and sprawling
With high towers and deep caverns
Open fields and endless skies

Our worlds can collide
                                           encroach
Drift into others
Accidentally
Deliberately
With a rush of wind and crash of sound
Or creeping in like mist, slow and silent

Many of us build walls
                                          protection from encroachment
                                                    ­                                             actual or feared

Walls provide distance from others
Space to breath, to think
To exist

Wall-building is difficult
It requires practice
Rebuilding to maintain them

Sometimes our walls grow spikes
Provide offense
                              as well as defense
Cause harm
To both encroachers
And passersby

Or they grow so high
We can’t see over the top
Can’t distinguish a siege attempt
                                                         ­    from a knock on the wall

Walls provide necessary protection
Room for respite, but
Our walls can’t discriminate for us
                                                               a threat from an invitation

We must stay aware
                                     of the worlds beyond our walls
Build walls of glass
Instead of stone

View with curiosity
All who approach
Distinguish true encroachment
From clumsiness or ignorance
Retain the ability to reach beyond your walls
Reach out
                   without encroaching

To connect with other worlds

Trust is a tricky thing.

One person in your life can shake the ground you walk on forever without a second thought.

Your own anxieties bring insecurities that make you lose trust in people. It's not always their fault, but when those sneaking feelings end up being true, ******* it takes so much to come back from that.

Distrust and uncertainty seep into everything moving forward. You can't help but compare and see similarities. ***** the glaring and incredible differences, you will still find ways to not trust him. It's not fair to him, but you feel jaded like it doesn't matter anyway. Continue building those walls and slamming more bricks up there each and every time you have a concern, warranted or not.

You'll push everyone away because you will never be able to let go of those parts of yourself.



-t.s.

a headboard crashing
echoing against the walls
like whips of lightn'in'.

the time of his death was
   unknown of course

Garl walked the perimeter sticks
   wooden spear at the ready

Garl saw more than he thought
   therein the world of the cave walls

His dreams were to amazing
   images of other worlds so
   beautiful so strange

all were there dreams at night
   but the amens put them
   on the walls

an act of great courage due respect

in his dreams Garl saw himself
   on the wall at first with
   fear later with desire

the amans were also hunters

the hunt was a strong image to have

Garl was out with the hunters
   he saw the hunt he saw his
   image on the cave wall
   He went forward to the mammoth

He is now seen on a cave wall
   by thousand peoples

the time of his death
   is unknown of course

The world he lives in is small.
Black waves lap at the shores of vapid sand
As clouds hold their place overhead.

The promises etched on his spine,
In the most faraway places —
He couldn't read them.

He runs his hands along the pale green barrier,
Feeling its imperfections sprint along
His fingertips.

The walls close in — and it's sad here.

He screams, he screams,
Each gasp a breath of tombstone air,
Each thrash an electric abstinence from thought.

What flavours describe the tendrils of his soul?
The red-stained weeds that grew over bare feet
Now trap him.

There is poetry to be found in a little life,
But the gravity of supposition weighed too heavy.
So he sits — counting the dark stars.

The walls close in — and it's sad here.

When you are Loved,
and so deeply cared for;

There is nowhere to run..
  Nowhere to hide

The only thing you can do
(under the warmth of that beautiful Hold)

     Is to slowly unwind..
     Until  you  Become.

It is already in you, Love..
buried behind the horrible Residual.
Remember..?

Within the soon to crumble Wall..

within the Corruptible,
that was so unfairly and horribly
     corrupted

Is the  absolutely Beautiful  in you
that has been  (and always will be)
     Incorruptible
.. preciously-Hidden, behind the wall


"It is Incorruptible..
It cannot undergo Decay"

You are in there, sweet-one
   buried underneath
every horrible part of it all.

      As the wall comes down..
      Love will find you.


   When allowed,
   it always, always does.

Don't it so...
After the plan, a wholly made can...
For the salt of the seen, a caring woe...
A happening place made, with also and...

Person
In the arms of dismay, is an hour said
Or is being a choice made, in lots to be, won?
With the worlds we invest, a care in lead...?

The stone of freedom
Today, is the silence of justice, broken for a time
To know a callous share, the irony of a question
Meant with a smile's cope, and harmony to become, trying

Whether amid seldom or comparing rarity to obligation
We have ours, an appetite of simplicity, keeping a noble prophecy
A redoubt to the ends of the ear, if not the bests of listening
All of due couth, and the promises to know youth, we mean...?

A world of sincerity with an eye for summation
And to a deed in love, with scope for a mightier future
Where one day, with sense beyond any other, condition
Well, is ours for a song, given the places and faces of needs, more

Run
Run
Run
Run
But I'm a creep
I'm a ******
What the hell am i doing here?
I don't belong here

"There's something wrong with the waters Mr Goethe
It feels like yesterday was spring
Now it's time, it's mere time
Till the frogs hop around
Gosh god does play dice with the world
Or else how have you found Ms Goethe and that jolly girl of yours
Oh ****** me, how is she?"

"She's fine, she's dust"

"It's almost like I didn't get to meet her when she was around
For the employee party
Tell me what is she wearing so heavy that she can't move once"

"Oh no barely dirt, i shot her dead and my child"

"Oh look the frogs are here near this meadow"

Run
Run
Run
Run

| Gold in your eyes
  black immorals leave you blind

| Immortal pain, forever will they cry
  as you try to decide of all the written
  messages on the wall, you want to reply

| You're like a worker of the night,
   living in the city heights, trying to get high
   Success gives you a fright; you couldn't see yourself
    well in all those bright lights

| Grinding at work, grinding with a girl afterwards
   on a wall. Your job is to answer customer's call,
  And you also had this pretty ******* call; and you
   two did some damage to the wall

| Trying to patch it up, like you tried with an ex
   you got drunk a little extra, in an empty bathtub
    shower, sending her drunk texts
  She thought you were just looking for ***,
  you threw your phone at the wall—it made a mess
  She obviously could smell your intentions with the
   alcohol under your breath

| So you screamed at the wall,
   "I hate you, I hate you all," as always to that wall
  But it wasn't the people you were referring to at all
   it was just at all your personalities, that you only know
  New friends started knocking on the bathroom door,
   people you never knew at all. They found you bouncing
   your anger on the wall, bawling your eyes out on the floor

| You used to have such good conversations with
   the walls; listening to you intentionally
  You filled them with your punches whenever you
   felt empty. Did so, so plenty and affectionately,
   as those walls could credit your pain, with great credibility

| Yours was an unmatched ability
   to tell a good story to an inanimate object so brilliantly
  Wilfully, cutting yourself so short equally,
   as time kissed you on your spine secretly, to pull you
   back in time- minutely, to reminisce on that girl Tiffany

| She was a blonde; only by her kind of dye
   she looked straight through you; only by
    that black eyeliner on her pretty eyes
   She made you seem a sweet tooth addict; only
    by the many times you tasted her cherry pie
   A cherished walk by; she was sort of bi- buying
    your heart both in and out.
   The number of times you told her, "I love you,"
    you'd probably lose count

| Now you just have that wall of where you
   first kissed
  Where you first embraced, and she accepted you
   with your random lisp
   Sharing your clothes of your blue collar salary,
    making sure it came back ironed so crisp
   Supersoaker eyes after— the only catch you had,
    after a long time you had fished

| In two deep, but all you have are these walls;
   they won't talk back to you. But they talk about
   your ex girl. ****, ****, **** these talking walls