Wind howls and whispers
Earth cracks and whimpers
Water rises and falls back
Fire does it all

I stand still, getting buried, under pressure, by the sands of time, I am covered, remembered, unseen.

You are up there, getting scattered, over mountains, by the hands of life, you are stripped, made bare, cleaned.

It is my remains you pump to the surface, it is my dead fire that gives yours light.

It is your straining to make villains out of victims, your commitment to love crimes that keeps me reaching through the night.

Too bright to lose, too dim to win.
Life, give me something other than a ******* lemon.

Gathered all the hues, painted virtues and sin.
I'm not about to do all this ******* again.

Give me another clue, like who's an enemy, who's a friend.
Otherwise I'll keep pointing fingers in faces until they cave in.

Stretching out on a word, a snapped twig totality, out here in this jungle of stars. A fevered recognition that you've gone nowhere that wasn't there, almost waiting for you to notice. Watching the world dress for the occasion, the wisest still find their walls close in, some pure language barred from discovery. There is no escaping this gravity of choice, no contracting this expanse plot, here, in this tumbling of stars.

Drawing a blank
in the eye of the beholder
is high art
if I've ever seen it.

The fear of the unknown
is too often replaced
with the overbearing price
of certainty.

Faith only pays when it's shaken,
and yet we light fires
to find
the day.

To create is human.
To doubt is divine.
To live, to breathe,
is to cross that line.

You let the ability atrophy beyond reckoning. Nobody will be listening to your sickening, self-defeating reasoning, your words lacking anything resembling creativity, nuance, feeling. You've turned your past into a living thing, stripping the present of any wrappings, the only lasting ribbon is this crushing need for security. You're paralyzed at the thought of living, terrified at the thought of giving up this hungry passenger who leaves you weak and empty. You must let go of this broken thing you call on instead of surrendering, surrendering to the truth that this life, it isn't ending.

It ended. It's over.
This life you had is no more.
This life you wanted so dearly isn't hiding like some four-leaf clover.
It's gone.     Let go.
Before it's too late, before you grow so deeply in this wasted longing, that none of you will show.
Look above this water, be terrified of what you don't know, instead of drowning in some bottle, looking for some afterglow. Instead of swallowing some paper, hoping the lines will show you the road. Show us there's a heart still beating, a rhythm finally worth repeating, there's more than ghosts to keep on breathing, this pain will not remain undefeated.

Trying so hard for what
Waiting so long for who
Desperation bleeding like a cut
Calling fell flew

Finishing the thought with a but
Ending it with ifs; ands too
Subtlety coming off rather blunt
Why does everything remind of you

Childish here, an old man there
Angry about this, about that I don't care
A variety of gifts, none of them pair
Beneath this skin, there's nothing I can wear