i write tragedies
not sonnets
i'm as dark
as the night
my soul
holds sadness
grunge
is my aesthetic
and cheery
is not in my vocabulary

before i wouldn't dare to imagine walking these streets alone,
yet now i somehow find solitude being on my own.

I walk through the door
the manager walks passed turns
and stares as if he has forgotten
to say something
but i'm on fire
I hold the withdrawl thing in my right hand
the tellers are all so
willing to help
I walk over to the teller
the most nervous one
use my withdrawl slip
slide it across the polished counter
she hands me a pen
tries to smile
i make my withdrawl
get my money
and
slip the pen
slowly
carefully into my
back pocket

Cause in the end. words are just words. The devil could read the bible out loud and the saints would cover their ears.  God could preach about heIl and the sinners will make fun of him. Words are just words. Some letters in order.
The speaker and the listener.
They determine the meaning.

Pretty white flowers
in the sun
The day’s just begun
Golden light falls across
Your face
It’s so lovely
The need to embrace you
Is strong
I do sense a sense of
Belonging