People are beautiful,

However.

Pretty people please a perverted industry,
Of powerful men
Preferring **** to passion to progress,

Preferring ******* productions over
#metoo protests
As mr. president likes to grab 'em by the p..

Provoking pain-passing-fists
Pulsating pro-rights protests,
Journalists plee for coverage praying no one pulls a
Knife and produces plumes of blood from the press
All while
Young picassos paint Guernica in America.

A broken people of a nation perpatrating hate-

Where red plus blue can only make purple-
But dark blue and dark red parish and persecuted plee for due process?

Plain racism profoundly perpatrates power and policy because polititions prefer power over people!

A parchment in hand is worth two poor people on the shores of Philippine islands passing pork bones around on plastic forks polluteing ashore to portion a pathetic excuse for super.

Admittedly population proceeding proper capacity depleting the recourse needed per proper production for product based programs-
-tax breaks produce proper rich persons-
Poor penny pedalers paddle street corners prostituting their dinner from someone's porch steps.

Pathetic "Presidential" GOPs
Catapaulting propaganda past press outlets producing media paranoia.

Piranhas perhaps are the least problematic politition ashore.
Petulance is peace right?

Perhaps Palestinian misplacement and
Poor communication produce
A melting *** per pound of C 4
Blasting
Terrarist propaganda pasted
On highways toting plywood posters
Providing hate.

Parasitic politics polluting a proud nation
Patrolled by plastic islands and pay-per-view gun violence.
Police brutality providing protection for
Parkland shooting,
The NRA having premeditated lawsuits against progress

Programs protecting people getting
Passed-

-Sorry blocked,

By political party(s)
Preferring deep pockets to
Public safety

Appocoliptic predictions
Loom in present day policy
As unreputable "science" papers
Preach lies to gospel preachers

Perhaps human problems
Produce paper cuts
Peeling skin to skin
For radical apologies to bleed out,

Perhaps bleeding pools
Poor out filling
Evaporated paradise
With EPA Pruit's preference of
Proper science.

Perhaps penguins and polar bears
Produced proper plans:

Die off before the planet plummets per plume cloud of nuclear power.
Or more likely planetary pestilence
For people.

I spend time today staring into my wall.
I suppose I can give the ceiling a break.
I stared at that yesterday.

A part of me worries that my intensity might spark a fire in the wall and burn a hole.

Then I remember my intensity can't spark much of anything.
Be it love.
Be it fire.

I've stared into her eyes with a cousin of this same intensity.
One a little less
Gloomy.

I saw myself in her eyes.
Not because I belonged their,
But because her eyes were a mirror
Never letting me
In.

The funny thing is,
I like to think that if I write long enough
My romantic view of the world will
Blossom

Like a daisy.

Well.

It won't.

The world I live in is dark. The soil unfit

Unyielding.

If I try to dig down so I can plant,
My fingers scrape on broken glass-

Or was that a broken heart.
Hard to tell these days.

So I return to the wall.
Only when I burn my eyes at it all I can see is the fragments of my
Heart.

Thrown like throwing stars into the plaster.

Remnants of a heart broken one too many times.

I'm in the backseat.
The world is flashing by me in the window.

Trees
Fields
Farms
The occasional pond.

All of it and none of it,
What does it matter.

Today I left the Harbor
Of my school.

My ship is heading for unknown waters.

Yet I sit here in the backseat.
She is driving.
The girl of my dreams.

She is driving, my mind is in turmoil.

We are leaving.
I won't see her for who knows how long.

I won't see any of them...
I break

I love you.
A declaration I sneaked in as we friends joke.

Caleb says no no no, I love you more.
I disagree.

I confess how I love her like the moon loves the oceans. Night after night Luna stairs down at her beloved,
Casting her gentle glow on her face.

But the waters care not.
At night they only have eyes for the promised dawn.

I say how I am like Luna. I see my beloved in the distance.
Close but so far.

But I will always be out done by the sun.

Once in a great while,
I block out the sun.
Even if for only a brief moment,
The Grace of the waters see me.

It is those moments that keep me alive.

Even if I died, my love would live on.

Like ever present Luna I would always watch over the waters.

I would because truly Loving someone means wanting the best for them,
Even if their best doesn't include you in their life.

The blood beneath my skin is racing

My breath is short
Short
So short

The feeling of terror overcomes me
It's a sickne--
The Scream booms threw me
I throw my fave backwards
I cling to my friends around me
I feel a hand around me too
They are trying to help me

**** it screamed again
My heart is beating
Beating
Beating

The music
It's building
The slow drone of a high pitched whistle
It's building
It's coming
**** what was that
In the corner
In the ******* corner
****.
I'm back in my friends arm
I'm pretty sure I'm crying
I can't tell
I'm blocking everything

Laughter this time
I'm done.
I'm done.
I'm done.

Help me

Scream

Hel-
Scream

Don't let go.
Don't. Let. Go.

I kneel here surrounded by grass

It is wet from recent rainfall.
The droplets soak into the knee of my jeans
And I continue to kneel anyway.

I gaze at the horizon-
I see the black clouds coming-
As if they are tormentors-
Returning to haunt my world.

I kneel in the field and watch the storm come.
I see blue tongues flicker threw the air.
I here their booming hiss as it shatters the peace.

I can see there dripping venom fall from miles away.

The storm is coming.

I feel the first drops of sin land on my shoulders and face.
I stand as if anything I do could change the inevitable.
I am blasted with the force of mockery.

The storm is here.

I am enveloped in the torrent.
It lashes against me.
As if to mock my protest a tree some hundred yards ahead shatters in a blue explosion.
A chunk of shrapnel clips my leg,
I wonder if it got wet from the drops in the knee of my jeans.

♤

I kneel back onto the grass.
The soaking ground ignores my soaking jeans.

I stand and look into the horizon
Black clouds are all I see.