we're all armed
with an appliance
of emancipation
we can nurture non-violent
defiance in a
non-compliant ethos of
antiauthoritarian self-reliance

we have the ability to eliminate the
vestiges of imperialism and
dominant dogmas that choke
and impede our creativity and shackle
our imagination to impotent ideologies

fragmented unrealities augmented
by fractures in our psyche
tendrils of theology that prey
upon our fear and exacerbate
conditioned responses that are
at once
unnatural and irrational
and lead
inexorably
to infantile expressions of
regression and fantasies of an
aggression rooted in the
suppression of dissent and
the oppression of dissidents

deities
as impotent
as our terror
of the unknown

by the promise of security and prosperity
a cabal of brutish thugs have erected an
imaginary hierarchy and demanded our
subservient obedience and reverence for
this malfeasant apparatus that leeches
our paychecks and robs all of our dignity
while somehow retaining the illusion of liberty
a delusion that festers like an open wound
a tumorous ulcer oozing foul fluid into our minds
blotting out our capacity for cultivating a
future divorced from misanthropy

so pour kerosene on this fluttering
flame of revolt before it sputters out
if we'd quit looking back and forth at
one another rotting in the gutters
checking to see if we have more to
our name than our sisters and our brothers
we might just muster the courage to overthrow
the vapid and misguided fictions that
divide and segregate us into pawns
trapped in this unending rat race
they've deemed the American Dream

harness the revolutionary tenacity
dormant in humanity's most important *****
infinite potential latent in every molecule
each neuron dancing across synaptic
gaps and fanning the embers of an engine
that gives motion to this evolutionary frame
the human brain is omnipotent

The tree is a greater artist
Than any man or woman.
Could ever hope to be,
For whereas we sit and strain
Over our words and phrases,
Shaping and revising,
Writing and rewriting,
Ever conscious and ever
Apprehensive of the affects
Which they may bestow
Upon our readers, and
What they mean to us;
The tree simply exists, and
Without judgment, effort
Intention, or pretension
It creates countless patterns of
Incomparable beauty
With the veins of its leaves  and
The grains of its wood that
Even a Shakespeare or Goethe
Could only ever attempt
To describe, however
Brilliantly they may have,
In their tomes.

The wind brushes her hair from her pale cheek
He glances her way.
It's cold out now but she brings her fingers to her wrists and
Slowly,
Carefully,
Pulls up her sleeves.

He turns away from her
And resumes his duties
Of making sure no
Emotions escape from his world.

She reveals all of the love and loss
On her arms
In the form of
Tattoos
And
Bruises
And
Scars.

Words he wrote.
Things he whispered in her ears late at night
When he thought she was sleeping.
She wasn't sleeping.
Not since that first
"I love you"
Left his lips.

It slipped past his chain link fences
And broke through his bolted doors
That he locked around
His heart
And
His hands.
"Don't let me touch her."
He tells himself
"Don't do it,
That'll be the end."

She glances at him now,
Eyes glassy,
Arms naked,
And makes her way over
To rest by his side.

He offers a polite smile
A visible form of
"Hello, goodbye."
She doesn't take it.
Not this time.

He pulls his cuffed hands closer to him
As she places her fingers
On his temples,
And now moves them downward
To his cheeks,
Now his jaw,
Now his mouth.

And as they lock eyes
Every other thing unlocks
And they fall to the ground
In a crash.

The sound of letting go
Wakes them up from their dream land
And they find themselves
Next to one another
Once again.

By the side of her coffin
As she's slowly lowered under
The ground where she stood
When the wind brushed her hair
From her pale
Dead
Cheek.

On a day to day basis people ask me how I am
I have come to realize that this is a habitual response rather than a genuine inquiry
On most days, I say 'ya know, I'm alive," and I don't bother to ask this question in return.
On my better days, I'll say "I'm good, how are you?"
And I'll watch as their mouth mimics the same lies in response.
I've started to wonder if anyone else can feel the emptiness in our words
Aren't they supposed to mean, something?

During my senior year I was voted most talkative, my yearbook reminds me of how much I've grown
I used to take pride in that social chatter, being able to talk anyone's ear off, or being seen as bubbly and bright just because I knew how to waste time with the filler words.
Now, I tend to keep my mouth shut. I've learned that not everything needs words.
Why it's socially acceptable to ask mere acquaintances how they are, subconsciously reminding them of all the things going wrong in their lives, when we fully know that no one wants to hear the truth. In fact, they look down upon the truth. Don't you dare say the words depression, anxiety, ptsd, mental illness or anything else for that matter. If you can't muster up the "I'm good," it seems, the only other acceptable response is "I'm tired," because, "I'm tired" has become the go to blanket term for every other emotion.
But you know what I'm tired of? People, who don't even care, asking me how I am, because now I can't even stop lying to myself.
The other day my friend asked me if I was okay. In my most convincing voice, I said "I am - always, okay"
They looked at me and mumbled "not okay"
I didn't need their words. I believe that all words are empty until someone fills them up with the presence of their soul. I may not have as many friends as I used to, but the friends that I do have speak with sincerity. When they say something, they draw from life experiences and offer these pieces of themselves, something I do not take for granted.
I collect the pieces and keep them as treasure.
Words are so valuable, as long as you don't leave them empty.

I know that heaven will be a summer evening
And we'll be back ******* around on that hill overlooking the city
And all our past lives
Will be dust in the wind
And all that will matter is our hands in the grass
And the skyline before us
But now all we see is the war before us
The physical and the unseen
And we are being shipped off one by one to the battlefront
I wonder if when they cut your hair you will still think of me in the front seat of your car
I wonder if you will wish for me on some distant star
Or pray to some god to bring us back together as if fate hadn't been gunning for us at all
I wonder if when home is only a memory you will take the time to remember the streets we used to drive endlessly
up and down
And back and forth forcing time to talk in all honesty about our changes
I wonder if your change will change me
If we'll ever even meet again
If we'll ever even speak again
All in all, I know I will love you till the very end
Even if I only love the memory of the hopeless ******* you were swearing quietly in the church
Smile on your face like you had something to say
Hands in your pockets like you'd never go away
Heaven is a summer evening where we turn back time and it all gets reversed and we get to stay together in innocence for the rest of our eternity
In truth, I'm not sure every eternity would be enough to lie back and remember with you
Heaven is a place where I look at you and I tell you I love you and you feel it in full
Where every cancerous thought of destruction is removed from your body and you are free in spirit to be as I have seen you can be
Heaven is a place where you look into me
And I look into you
Honest
Open
And innocent.
And I have loved you for the duration of our never ending Now, but I hear the Fates call that our portion of time together is now Enough
And it hurts.
Because Enough will never be enough for me.
Because for me, Heaven is us
back ******* around on that hill overlooking the city
Heaven is your porch in the dead heat of summer
Heaven is almost burning down your father's field setting off fireworks on the fourth of July
Heaven, to put it simply,
isn't on earth yet
and it ******* hurts.
Goodbye ******* hurts when you have to turn the page from the most beauty you've ever see.
Goodbye ******* hurts when your friends tell you it'll all stay the same even when we're thousands of miles away and all you can do is smile and nod because you know,
You just know that it won't.
Goodbye
*******
Hurts.
And nothing makes it go away except surrender to our individual up and overs
Giving way to the void of 'what happens next' in the never ending Now
And I know that now.
So I will watch you ship off to fight your holy war and I will fight the war within me to fight the Change
Because the Change makes us whole
The Change makes us new.
The Change builds us into who we were meant to be in the darkened theater of life by tearing us down to our core
And your core is something terrible and wonderful to see indeed.
You were a beautiful mess of man
But you have greater things to do
And I do too
So for the goodbye for this never ending Now
I'll see you when we meet again.