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How do we
forgive ourselves
for the sins
we didn't commit?
it's called responsibility
Take my hand
as we walk along the patio
surrounded by clay
and fine china

As we look upon
those who are caged
eternally, timelessly
aging through
unbothered by the
deafening arms
of the clock as they
clap to meet.

Walk with me
through panels and
countless oil paintings


As we listen to the
songs of the violins
that cannot sing anymore,
tip-toeing onto
the sycamore tiles


Funny,
how fleeting
was considered
immortal


and only one
can differentiate


fleeting
from
timeless.


cause
fleeting,
are we
among the immortals;
we are just
passing through.
I got a weak lung
and you got this charm
that captivated  me
when you clutched your cigar
between your perfect teeth
and began puffing
nicotine smoke

'it won't **** you'
you said
as you repeatedly inhale
the poison
embracing it
with your lungs

I've tasted your lips
smoky, cool
when we kissed
how blissful

I asked why
you do it
you said
'to **** demons'
I pointed to
your head
'but they're up there'
I said,
and you
called me a smart ***
and then
kissed me
again

you told me that
you love me

but

I knew

that you don't

cause

I got a weak lung
and yours are strong

but that's not bravery

cause bravery
is
quitting it for me

I'm selfish, am I?
for Lann ~
I guess
my life is an
endless and
continuous search
for people
whom I
can lay my
head on
shoulders to
cry on
and bodies
to share
heat with

cause I believe
that finding one's
self is a life
long journey
and I think I am

afraid

of being alone

so seeking home
in the kindness
of strangers with
a little bit of
attachment
comforts my lonely
soul

amidst the
constant reminder
that I am
certainly lost

along with
the possibility
of meeting death
without ever
meeting
me.
every time
I get the urge
to write I
always find
myself in the
most frustrating
situations

~

like not
finding a pen
and paper
or being
in a conversation
with
somebody important
or being
caught in
the moment
wherein emotions
and thoughts
are flooding
but deciding
to
write
it all for
later

~

but when
I finally put
the courage to
allow my pen
to kiss the
surface
of my paper
it all
goes
away into
the void
of my forgetfulness

~

and of course
ill be in
remorse for
letting
those beautiful thoughts
vanish like
a *******
having done
her job
leaving the
customer
me
on it's own

~

trying to
fathom
what to do
next for
the next few hours
or days
weeks
or years

~

contemplating
about what
when
how
to get
back to the routine

~

so when I
did remember
the same words
that makes
my
brain ******
again

~

I found
myself
in
the same peculiar
position.
Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
How we worry about the safety
Of our dreams null and dainty
And our wishes of hope and subtlety.

Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Maybe a disorder in personality
Don’t know my main priority
But weary about a certain casualty.

Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Forgot all my functionality
Living life with absurdity
Death with such acceptability.

Anxiety, Anxiety, Anxiety
Please more of anonymity
Dealing with such difficulty
Of one having anxiety.
An old one, from my first collection 'Suicide, Ecstasy, and other Poems'.
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