It seems so far away
My youth preserved that precious little thread
Convinced a price I’d never pay
Convinced I’d never be dead
I thought my skin iron armor
A shield to all the shifting forces
The forces that nature threw at me
Until I saw life at its sources
And for lasting life, was my loudest plea
Never before
Have I seen so visceral a scene
Until I witnessed life escape, stripped to its very core
And on that pavement, so impressive a rouge sheen
Tears shed from my iris
Like I could change the horror
And shrieking like my efforts pious
Calling life, to my side I implore her
For him, I beg her company
For me, I’m no source of council
Though I cry, don’t trouble me
For I’m not the one that woman killed
I can’t express my grief
No petty conglomerate
Could afford me relief
For I’m not the one that woman killed
His blood was steaming
On that September road
By the sidewalk, dun and grey
Like life between its anti and node
I can only cry so much
Before it no longer matters
And it becomes another event, such and such
And its significance becomes a thought, to the floor it clatters.
Don’t cry for me, though I’m rife with ill
I don’t need it
I’m still alive
I’m not the one that woman killed
Think about that body rushed away
On determined heels
To the hospital, on precious time played
His fate, despite man, sealed
I’m not there, no fruit to give
My presence not by his dying side
Though he screams to the empty, futile air
My efforts can’t discourage his departure nigh
Though the sun may rise
Thougt the babe born
Though the shoot will rise
I will still morn
His loss, the rotting human soul
That sits in a wooden box, rested in the solemn hearse
Carried off by the bearer of palls
And buried deep beneath the earth
I’ll lament the loss, I’ve lost it
So very suddenly placed, without abet
This event so caustic
I’m face to face with death
But I’m not the one you should morn
Despite the tears streaming from my face
I’m not the one with the greatest of ills
I’m not the one you should be praying for
For, I’m not the one who that woman killed.

age extending by the severity of my mistakes
i am nothing but the hours I stay awake
everyone seems to know who they are
cutting jagged outlines of their personality with
cardboard boxes
friends afraid of waking up, diplomas in hand, graduating
but I am worried of staying up, stuck in this timeframe
watching lovers and childhood friends growing into
unrecognizable bodies
days becoming strange hellos and
short conversations

I imagine trees swaying
as if they are dancing to the sound of cars passing by
and I imagine looking at stars is a two way street
wishes being made from both sides of the cosmos
I imagine hope to be universal
and I imagine stray cats holding as much freedom
as the uncaged birds they gaze upon
both, hoping to be found

will I ever know the struggles of a man?
the loneliness of a stray?
the burden of a clock?
will I ever find my place in the Red Sea?
I sit unable to ask anyone this question,
no one understands.
--
it is 4:43 am
I am waiting to grow into an age I can look back at my life
and explain everything by saying
"I was a child"

and everyone will nod.

even when i change, everything is the same