I am afraid
I am scared we will become a routine.
I am terrified you will be the one to leave even though I know im not staying.
I am afraid of losing what I never really wanted in the first place.
I am smothered in guilt for not wanting this as much as you do.
I am full of love and affection but I cant seem to find myself around you.
I am yearning for the way I used to be able to love with ease.
I am hurt because I know this will run its course.
I am tortured by my own glass walls.
I am kept alone when you are right there begging to be let in.
I am trying so hard my arms bleed showing the pain you cant see through my walls.
I am trying to keep control as we are thrashed about in this ocean.
I am so sorry I am afraid.

The happy worms are where the moist dirt lies.*

The happy worms are where the moist dirt lies, the moist dirt lies where the worms are happy.

The happy worms are where the moist dirt lies, the moist dirt lies where the worms are happy, and the sleepy leaves lie on top.

You’ve heard of us, I’m sure. We’ve been corrupting the living since life was old enough to be corrupt.
We are why humans scrub, rinse, wash up, wipe down, and die.
At first, we were just travelers. Useless wanderers floating through space and content with having no purpose at all.
Until one of us bumped into, and sunk into, something with a dangerous potential. Something intricate with all sorts of systems that would soon be tainted with this single bump.
It was nice, I guess the first one might have thought, To feel more important than this thing with all of the potential in the world. To corrupt it.
Not all of us damage humans for the sport of it, like Arenavirus Infection, Fibromyalgia, Cryptococcosis, Tuberculosis, Cancer, and many others do.
Some are just afraid of humans. They attack them because they are afraid of the medicines they create, which doesn’t make any sense because in doing this they singularly are more likely to be killed.
Most do enjoy making peoples ill.
The more competitive ones have made rules.
Alright, they’d say, Next one to swim in this lake will catch me.
If they aren’t wearing a coat, and it is below sixty degrees Fahrenheit, their defenses are down and they deserve us.
Well, they shouldn’t be so vain as to purposefully tan their skin.
More points to whoever claims the one with the feeble immune system.
I however, do not feel that it is necessary to attack the humans. We are, after all, supposed to be wanderers.
I am Influenza. I wholly, have killed or touched millions of humans.
I singularly, as .253667IFL, have never touched any object at all and probably won’t for thousands of years to come.
And while I have made this decision and while I don’t believe that it is necessary to attack humans and while I have the potential to, I do not feel sympathy toward the humans.
It is not because I am unlike them, in fact it’s just the opposite.
If there is anything Earth’s Illnesses can agree on, it is something that we have all learned in our travels:
That it is impossible for one to pity something that shares the same potential as them.

I know now.
Why did no one ever tell me?
When I was a little boy.
That girls with china blue eyes
and long dark eyelashes.
That smell of Gardenias
taste like summer rain.
With softness of down feathers.
And whisper words like secrets.
Are the reasons
my pillow is wet.
and my poems weep.

Why are your Poems So Dark Jude?

It’s not just my poems dear reader.
Everything has darkness.
The moon has a dark side.
That is hidden from view.
When the maker cried
Let there be light.
He left the darkness of night.
Even the purity of the poets
crisp white  page
Is nothing
without the spilt black letters
of his heart.
I think you may have wished
to ask of me
Are you so sad Jude.
I answer quietly.
I am like the moon
My darkness is not in view.

You could have had me so simply
You let me walk away that day
They say things about me
I don't listen to what they say
You know the real me
So you say
You don't know the real me


You can't know the real me

☁️