this accidental status, we are all very busy
to be on the lookout for, the odds are not
terrible compared to the lottery, a modest
1 in 300 million, but it’s an easy buy and bust, just a two dollar bill, two lousy singles,
for a legal purchased fantasy that’s
cheaper than a cup of coffee

but finding love is miserable murderous
murmuring mess, can be very expensive, and
exhausting too, physically and mentally,you’re swimming in shallow waters tween razor rocky coral, begging for a slice of your double sized portion of anguish

And yet,
can’t be that hard,
it is a mega billion busyness,
with no cure or satisfactory vaccine,
and the randomness can drive you
mad, make panting to-pack it in,
until your spidey sensnses tingling,
a ketchup and bitter herbs mixture,
and you’re sweating, and it’s 100% anticipation of the well known (!)
unknown risks, this easy
walkway~path in the woods,
leads you on, with marvelous views,
even babbling brooks, till you find
you’ve climbed halfway way up a mountain and to make it to the top,
it’s a rocky boulder strewn,
ankle and heart twisting road that
takes you to the grandest place and plan

oh but, boy,
where the view of the worldscape is only
fantastico, but the only way back down involves throwing yourself into a
quarry pit, full of dangerous chemicals,
that burn scars into your inside parts, invisible wounds so untreatedbly unspeakably bad and incurable
again and again,

and you say stupid things like
I can’t help myself,
what’s a matter daddy,
just want some sugar in my bowl,
and when your neck gets broke,
and it’ll take incredible processing
to just get you to walk again,
and yet
the single
odiferous scent, that amuse bouche on
your lips, and you’ll do it all again for
once monte carlo throw of the dice,
because the odds ain’t that bad,
everbody lives somebody
and given the billions of opportunities walking in just this planet,
even one in a million sounds
pretty good,
even,


very…fair

Atlas, the Titan who was punished by Zeus.
Burdened to carry the heavens, he walks slowly,
His muscles strain, he grits his teeth as the sphere full of stars continues to grow.

Above him, constellations dance, unaware,
Unmoved by the weight they press upon his back.
Atlas’s shoulders bear worlds that he’ll never touch,
A universe of light bound to his bones in darkened chains.
He remembers freedom like a song half-forgotten,
The days before duty sealed him to this fate.
Yet, no one looks back to see the man bent low,
The silent guardian of the stars’ cold glow.

I was his lover, his friend
Yet, he kept pushing
Refusing to let go
The heavens kneeling his figure more and more
As others pass by him without a single glance

“Why?” I asked him “Why not let it go?”
He looked at me with his sad eyes
And said,
“Someone has to carry them”

A star shot through the space within the sphere
As he fell more and more in love with his burden
And slowly forgot about me

So, I, too, became a shadow among the stars,
Watching him fade, bound to his fate.
I whisper his name to the heavens he bears,
Knowing he’ll never hear me through that endless weight.

Years later, I saw him again, set in stone
Those beautiful sad eyes I fell in love with
Permanently fixed forward
Until the end of time.