Strange Skeleton Knight
Why do you fight?
You're so fragile
Yet you take on my burdens without being asked
Why must you be so eager to die on my behalf?
Don't you deserve to live too?
Mr Skeleton Knight
Why don’t you cry?
You never make a sound
Yet your sadness echoes deafeningly
Do your bones not feel cold out in the dark?
Does not being able to shed tears make you unable to release your sadness?
Can I cry on your behalf?
Sir Skeleton Knight
What did you do with your heart?
Did you tear it out to stop yourself from feeling?
Did you give it away along with the rest of yourself?
Even someone without flesh and organs shouldn't look so empty inside
Why can't you get your heart back?
Can I give you mine instead?
Noble Skeleton Knight
Do you like the grave I've dug you?
I'm glad that you haven't buried yourself yet
But I'm sure you don't feel the same way
Then why don’t you let your soul rest?
Wouldn't the warm dirt hug you more than anyone else has?
I don’t think I can help you anymore.
Beloved Skeleton Knight
I’ve killed myself
I hope you don't think that your existence was a tragedy
Though in the end I never managed to make you feel alive even once
I’ve told them to bury me next to your grave
Promise me that you'll stay at my side
Atleast now we can be cold and empty together.
Why do you still look so sad?
The sky forgets what colour to wear
The wind turns solid
The clouds thins into transparency
The rainfall feels dry
The puddle doesn't reflect anything
The rivers walk instead of run
And sea refuses to kiss the shore
The ocean rejects the moon
The moon trips chasing the Earth
The sun gets goosebumps
Gravity stops giving weight
Light does a double take
The sunflower forgets what direction to look
All of nature, collectively, felt nervous
At the sight of you
The ground caves way as it lets me in.
Almost as if I was meant to be here in tangles of grass.
With the bugs
With the sun beaming down on my taught skin of age.
My ribs itch my skin
And my eyes watch clouds and stars until they dissolve with the beauty of it all.
The trees sing, and I listen with shriveled ears until I no longer listen.
I sink, and sink, and sink,
And then, can I finally sleep in peace.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Sunday
I search for that day
That we can be together
I haven't found a way
But I know you're out there, my treasure
It doesn't have to be for forever
I don't need a dozen years or 8 months
Not a week
But perhaps for just one day
I'll be the one you seek
So for you, I'll look
In empty churches
In crowded bars
In long books
In dying stars
In forgotten poems
In 90s songs
In wet dreams
In the bottom of ponds
In river streams
In a sunset's view
For that day, where you would look into my eyes and feel about me how I feel about you
And you'll understand
In my search.. all the things I went through
Yet.. maybe.. a day like such
Doesn't exist in this world
So it only makes sense, that I search the universe too
When we finally touch souls
Maybe we'll lock eyes behind distant stars
And wrap around eachother in black holes
Our Celestial Bodies colliding
Making supernovas out of control
We'll kiss as we ascend
Devouring eachother whole
Falling in love again and again
And we'll be amazed
Of how all of this.....
Almost wouldn't have happened
But it will
Somewhere in this timeline
Maybe it won't last a day
Perhaps not even a minute
But for just one second
Time will stay still
For a moment
Not long enough to measure
For just one breath
For just one glance
For that one heartbeat
I'll finally find you, my treasure.
Why is my love life always so one-sided?
That gun that you're so proud of
Why does it tremble so much?
Is your hand following your unstable mind?
Is that the same hand that holds your child's?
Fragile enough to be crushed with a hug
Insecure enough to attack a compliment
Corrupt enough to endlessly reload on lies and deceit
Are those the same emotions you shoot into your wife at night?
Your bullets roar so loudly
What voices are you trying to drown out?
Your heartbeat clanks at the speed of the fallen shells
What are you so afraid of?
A man armed and ready to go off at any moment like you?
What can you manage to defeat?
With those trembling hands
Uncertain of what to take aim at
You shoot down anything that moves
Uncertain of where the trigger is
You pull at anything you can reach
Uncertain of how much enemies are left
You forever stay in the trenches
I now know that when you bow your head at church that it's not for prayer
Then hoping to nullify your senseless you refuse to leave the battlefield
And take no-mans-land everywhere you go
You wear your bulletproof vest and rifle to the supermarkets, schools, offices, dinner tables, churches, and funerals
What remains in the aftermath of love?
As streets are built without sidewalks
As neighborhoods no longer have use for streetlights
As parks and sunsets turn into myths
As the stories of lies and deceit become the only nursery rhymes we pass on
As *** becomes as mundane as eating bread
And ****** become larger and more frequent than church communions
As ***** become cheaper than blood
As faces become so interchangeable they're impossible to remember
And names turn into secrets
When everywhere is no man's land
When childbearing is just a rare, yet escapable punishment from God
When children migrate in swarms between families like birds escaping winter
When love is just but a militarized weapon used for enslavement
When humanity is emancipated from their emotions
Shall we celebrate our independence by clearing our contacts list and changing numbers?
Shall we start each new year by picking a new stranger to stave off our hunger for the night
When we stone those who learned each other's middle names
When we lock away anyone greedy enough to keep someone to themselves
And the married are sent to live in the madhouse
When the war of love have ended
And no one's heart returns home
And yet there is nothing I would rather be.
I have grown to appreciate,
as a nonpartisan–
a silent sommelier–
the subtle earthy notes of hypocrisy with which
my deflated ego attacks my flimsy skeleton.
I know my own irony, my instability, my naivete.
I have been raised in the midst of myself–
I carved and nailed these words together to make trellises
around which my elastic grapevine limbs have learned
to wrap and coil and hoist themselves toward the sun.
I have built myself,
and I am in this vineyard alone.
There are distortions in these wooden lattices,
and there are seasons when the grapes grow sour
or the vines do not flower
but the crop is resilient and the wood does not break,
and there is enough sunshine here
in the summertime to sustain
and to yield something complexly beautiful because it has been weak,
and it has known the cold.
I have built myself,
and I am in this vineyard alone.
There are plots of land far more fertile than this one,
foundational structures far more symmetrical,
grapes far sweeter and more robust of flavor,
but there is no wine I would rather have flood my veins;
there is nothing I would rather be.
i wonder when i'm ever gonna choose to write in meter of my own free will.