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Blue Orchid Sep 2020
I simply wish to fade in to oblivion
Like a sand castle washed away by the ocean
My essence scattered,
As if I was nothing but a speck of dust in the wind
Forgotten
Forever
Blue Orchid Nov 2019
We see
Evolution
As only the physical aspect
Of who or what we are
We see
Change
And we think growth
But growth should start with in
In the depth of our being
Beyond length or width
So that when eyes gaze upon us
An impression is left
Like the vast space above our head
With its stars and the moon and vacuum
An impression
A need
To know and to be touched
By a depth that is beyond explanation
Blue Orchid Nov 2019
So I’m sitting here, partially feeling the sun caress the side of my face between the shrubs that grew to be pretty enough not to be a nuisance, the heat weakened to a point that could be considered enjoyable as it can only be at 4 in the afternoon, watching people lost in their comfortable moments, listening to jazz being released from the speakers across the room. The half lit cigarette on my fingers burning away with every drag, better relaxing my oh so anxious mind like a lullaby heard with a drowsy mind.

It makes me think of all writers with broken souls; Virginia Woolf who said “You cannot find peace by avoiding life”  And Silvia Plath who questioned “Is there no way out of the mind?”  And I wonder if their peace came from flashes of instances like these, where they could only lose themselves in a crowed of other people’s lost moments and be able to revere in them.
Blue Orchid Aug 2019
I wake under the covers of plastic wrapped around my body; the sealed bag suffocating my lungs, turning them in to a world of silent aching. The piercing light from the windows penetrates my shelled eyes and I remember I don’t really need to breathe anymore. “Cadaver” my children call me. I have no other word to explain them as I know they have no other phrase to explain me. I am no longer inside the spectrum of names for in them laid an intimacy one could never hand to one so cold. I am the decimated clay in their hands but instead of them putting me back together, I marginalize myself with in them, with in their brains, under their probing hands, I live and I thrive, their minds my new home.

They hover over me, their touch a mixture of curiosity and displeasure as if their subconscious hadn’t yet adapted to my rough, cracked skin. My memories engulf me while I bear witness to the way my body comes apart, almost like silk underneath the scalpel, dancing the edge of the blade as gracefully as a ballerina.

‘I am a man’ I think to myself, ‘a man made in God’s image.’ 
 
However, the carved pieces of myself falling to the floor make me doubt my own thoughts. My senses have expired yet I wish to feel again, even when I’m peeled down to my bone, I wish to sense these curious hands upon me. I wish to feel my lungs fill with the city air, all the smoke and the stench of the sewers, the odor of the ground after a light drizzle, the sweat and breath of the people out on a stroll, I dream for it all to overwhelm my senses as it used to. My veins are empty of life and of blood, while my heart sits idle beneath my broken ribs, waiting for a ****** that will never come.

“Limbs aren’t meant to stay idle.” My father used to say while he was young and vibrant. Now I know his limbs, they too lay idle six feet under while they slowly rot away. Mine seem to be too battered to want the excitement of movement; under their nakedness lay all the mystery of Gods genius in its purest form.

They have left me here as an exhibition as though I had not been enough entertainment in life, as though my every waking moment had not been one roller coaster ride after the other, an emblem of unadulterated neglect from both God and man. And still I am forced to be situated on this stale bed day after yearning day until I am not enough to fill anything. But I suppose this is the true meaning of being a father, giving oneself so completely that at the very end of it, you are that something that dissipates in to the night air, shattered in to a million pieces but still knowing you will live on.
Blue Orchid Aug 2019
So you see
We're a parade of soft silky flesh
A mask on battered and broken bones
A plague on beauty
Parasites that drain the soul of the earth
Like we do with one another
Cherry lips covered in lethargy
******* the life out of the shoulders we lean on
And still
The wind whispers "prosper"
While the trees breath essence
Down our cracked throats
Building
And rebuilding
Like a potter mends his clay
We forget
In our blinding pride
We're only a fraction of the unrecognized particles of the universe
Blue Orchid Aug 2019
I saw, in her eyes
A sense of what could never be
While she wrote goodbye
Letters in her smiles
And when the sun rose
She'd let it hide the shadow
Clinging to her shoulders
Like a forgotten memory
On the surface,
So that all the world
Noticed was a mirage
Of pent up brilliance,
I saw, in her
A fear of dawn
And I told her
Close your eyes
So I won't have to see myself
Blue Orchid Jun 2019
I see green in my dreams
Reflected in a sky the color of a mirror
And you may argue
Mirrors have no colors
But I say they do
They are any shade you wish to present them
They hold the color of evidence
And truth in their golden hues.
"I see green in my dreams"
I told my godfather
Bargaining in his infinite wisdom
He looks at me through eyes
Heavy with age
And tells me"I see you have learned to hope."
"No" I say shocked
"Its not right for a person
to feel like they have to protect themselves from love
Its not right
To want to be invisible
Just to escape future abandonment
Its not right
To hope against hope
And suffocate your lungs with false truths
Convincing enough
To let yourself down
Its not right
To keep yourself from wanting big things
Because "you don't deserve them"
Its not right!"
"Perhaps," i say getting ready to leave, "But I do them anyway."
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