There's silence tonight,
A duo of voices
Outside
Trailing past my window.
There's a lap dog yapping
And a taxi cab screeching
To a stop
For a passenger
That won't fall out of love.
Where there's a will,
There's another will,
A will of never wanting to let go
Because maybe one day
It will get better
-
I never used to think about
How the words
Sounded
Before putting them down.
I just wrote them.
I avoid the mirror when
Asking myself,
When did presentation
Take the place of
Creation?
Even now,
They move, they sway,
My eyes swimming
In pools
Of their own self-doubt.
A house of cards
Meant to move forward,
Give point,
And explore shelves
Yet undusted,
Though a new world ranking show
Of countries and their literacy,
The United States ranks 7th.
-
Attuned to no deep thought
Does that mean
All deep thought
Is gone for good?
What happens to a man
When they stop caring?
What happens to a man
When they feel the majesty
But do not have the desire
To take it in and let it out?
What happens to a man?
What happens to any of us?
-
Perhaps I've taken something.
Perhaps the weight of the world,
"The insanity" as a friend puts it,
Has eaten up my waning purpose;
My youthful illusion
Of eternity
Through
Fabrication.
Facing mortality,
Acting as if nothingness
Is something to be
Overjoyed by,
Is a temporary jest.
True memories,
Lasting ones,
Instill themselves
On the global
Psyche
Like a cow brand.
No writer should be followed.
They should be listened to,
Not for their lives,
But their many
Deaths.
It is in their resurrection
That we dispel identity
To see that progress is multitudes,
And those too scared to die
For fear of losing themselves
Are only holding us back
For whatever tomorrow brings.