I feel the weight of expectation.
The pressure of responsibility
bares down
like it can feel I’m straining.
Every moment I get closer to
collapse.
Every second, strength surges in some endless
final push of effort.
A lifetime of uphill climbs in the time it takes
to shamefully look away.

Even if eyes fall
On warm and soft
Smiles

Even if fingers grip
The warm and soft
Skin

Even if words heard
Are warm and soft
Spoken

I’ll still slight the stone
For seeing only you
For feeling nothing after you
For hearing the end.
That cold and hard
Lump.
I’ll still slight that stone.

Warmth accompanies sunlight
No longer
Sunlight reveals the truth
Of isolation

The alien looks out from dune's peak
Ever shifting
Ever onward reaching

Faces both smiling and snarling
Haunt the edge of perspective
But there's no connection
No link
Not a single shred of song shared

Hardened heart’s crust cracks
Exposing the dried ichor
Of love's rampaging past.

Skeletal fingers grip an oblong stone
Cords of tendon thin muscles stiffen
A jaw set with determination
Eyes glassy and feverish

Another chuckles, circling like a carrion crow
It grips their lover's hand warmly
And sighs down at the starving man
“you'll never squeeze any blood from that dry stone”

The words uttered, shatter his resolve
He curls into that common dying pose
And waits for mercy's final blessing.

and I know who I am.
Like the clack of horns clashing,
Knows the ram.
Or like the torrent of rushing water,
Knows the dam.
Their intent expresses their character,
and their words expressed their intent.
Although they try,
the point remains
as elusive as line one.

The wisdom of age is caged
By rage
By pages staged in cultural serfdom.

The youthful burnt by truth's
Supernova
Of time and its rotten fruit,
wisdom, hah

So you find me between
The rage and the explosion.
Gritting teeth beneath pain's expressed grief.