I imagined
the end
would be much worse
After a peace treaty
muttered through clenched teeth
the horrors would be revealed
And the carnage
the dead
the dead heaped hopelessly
carelessly
strewn in every place unimaginable
And the wounds of the wounded
bleeding profusely
gushing violent red
festering foul-smelling yellow-orange pus
wounds, that even when healed
still ache
But this
this
this is manageable
A bullet straight through the chest
clean
sharp
precise
shot by a professional
so there is only one casualty
Only one heart impaired
Somehow this
is better
An assassination before the war begins
And all hell breaks loose
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 10:27 PM UTC
there are not words
to define or describe
the intricacies of a human Soul
a Soul does not
converse with words
but with
passion
raw
perfect
inexhaustible
words are a facade
tenuous
nothing
the only conversation
occurs
between souls
and words
are simply there
to fill the gap
that awkward silence
the crushing oblivion of forever
when all passion is gone
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
If life is a highway
then I'm afraid
the only people I've met are hitchhikers
waiting on the side of the road
for a ride
to anywhere really
I stop
because I could use the company
and also
I'll get to use the carpool lane
Some passengers come and go
without much effort on either part
the only thing they leave behind is a slight stench
But then
there are the few
who insist on driving
and take roads
to places
I never thought to imagine
they set up permanent residence
and I am
helpless
in the passenger seat
but as it happens
with hitchhikers
they merely want a ride
to that better place they're going
and I
am just
the transportation.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 5:08 PM UTC