On a moonlit night,
after a long time
the two wanderers finally met.
They shared an extraordinary
bond that held them close.
One with a crushed heart
and the other with a secret.
He wanted to share his
Story and she had a
confession to make.
A rain drop fell
on the ground and
so did a tear that
rolled down her cheek
when she heard his
story.
He had a ******* his
mind who had left
him with deep scars.
Her heart sunk
and all the butterflies
died.
She submerged in her
own pain.
He told her how much
he adored the girl
and how she had
taken over his heart.
The petrichor
lingered in her mind.
The stars skewed.
A dream that turned
cataclysmic affected
every single atom of
her body.
He held her hand tight
and asked her if
she would help him
get through the heinous
storm.
She nodded with a constrained
smile on her face.
He didn't realize how hurt
She was.
Unfortunately, he  was the only
the one who could be a bandaid
and heal her scars.
She remained quiet and swallowed
the words back in.
Her secret remained a
secret which she couldn't
shrive .
It remained enclosed
to the world.
Losing him as a friend was
something she couldn't
afford.
So she just let it die
and bother her inside.
She buried it deep inside
her heart and completely
concealed it where no one
could find it.
But neither of them were at fault.
Both of the wanderers craved
loved on that night.
Sitting so close, fingers interlinked,
they were stuck in an esthetical
mess of love and insanity.
The two paths had
finally met but a night had
never seemed so
Solitudinarian before.

undress me with your naked eyes
a skeleton can tell no lies
but hide the truth
from sleeping spies
to know nothing
is all thats wise.

i was a suit
was always worn
i knew not what else to adorn
my soul with but that shoty form
ive died and im reborn.

What is your reality really?
Is it the clarity of familiar things,
A toast to the success of monetary
Accomplishments that weigh
Just as much as the opinions
Put into them?
   What makes a rich man so rich?
Possession or the value one or all
Put into said possession?
   Is a billion dollars more valuable to
One person than the love one has
For their child? Or is it possible that
We have been taught to value money
As survival in a chasing of the tail?
   I was was told that is just the world
We live in, that that's just the way
Things are, yet the very fundamental
Being of humanity is to change,
The struggle for it and the ability
To do so.
    Yet here we are, chasing tails
So to speak, and the very concept
Of " living a better life" has become
The mantra for the struggle.
   The struggle is within ourselves,
The fact that we are living as a species
On a doomed path, regardless of belief
Or faith, that the end is inevitable,
That we must live a life together
Yet the very success one has
Is set up to be solitary,
It has no bearing on thy neighbor
Because one gathers success towards
Themselves and their circles.
  Is this a preaching?
No, it is the truth we live in,
That we see, that we cannot change.
Why can't we change our selves,
Our greed, our hunger, our animalistic
Nature that has only become sophisticated
In brutality and not shed like history?
   Because we need struggle.
The truth is the suffering in which
We live everyday is delivered by ourselves.
   We have accepted the experience,
That " higher" learning is the route,
And we chase tails.
   What is real then?
Well, that is your perception,
That which your heart tells you is real,
Your reality as a poet takes you
Outside of yourself,
   That lets you see the sad truth of our
Species, and yes, our doomed nature.
   Live die repeat.
Is this a sad rant of a depressed insomniac
With too much time on bis hands?
Yes.
Does it make it any less true?
No....
Why state this if I'm not doing anything
About it.
If you have read this in its entirety
Then I have.
Wake up,
Your world is what you make it,
Not how you take it,
Live free of circles.

Did you ever wonder why,
everyone keeps thinking of Death,
but Life gets so little credit?

In the morning I awake
With the after-taste
Of a half-remembered dream
And a barely formed face
Shadow of the past
And emotions that last

And some of these dreams
Would make a hero cry
And some of these dreams
No matter how I try
I know will stay with me
Until the day I die

                                   By Phil Roberts