<𝚍𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎>
...
<𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝>

Only a few short days...
We were laughing away on Friday

You seemed happy, not flinching
Even when our friend replied with

An Emiya Shirou meme
What killed you homie?

<<𝚋𝚛𝚘 𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎>>
<𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑>
<<𝚒’𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕. 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠>>

Sunday, your seat’s empty
Our friends all at church

Like He finally heard us
Your mom, she needs our prayers

Her spot on the front pew bare
While she holds your hand at the ward

<<𝚍𝚞𝚍𝚎... 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜:>>
<<𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗>>
<<𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝.........>>

<<𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚎 🖤>>

The nights are long but the days are longer
Only in her sleep does she exhale
The rest of the world loosening its grip

She thinks of false promises and shallow hopes
Things all too familiar by now
And swears to do better for her child

The baby on her back now a young woman too
Still her precious light and hope
"My only sunshine" in the dark

She feels her bones and flesh aching from the race
Her heart beats stronger than rising tides
An indomitable force pushing at an irrational object

And so she wakes, smiles at the sky
Fixing sunny side ups for her kin
To get by in spite of everything

is sometimes the bravest act of all

A boy, sketching

         His friends, fellow neighbours, skinny dipping

This is not the first time,
      but what is indeed new are the imprints
                                  of streams, droplets;
                                        yelps, giggles;
                      the force of a tumbling body,
                                   or limbs on limbs,
    shivers and waves in his very young heart.

       He finds his nib forming strange contours,
               fingers tracing the imprints as much as his
                  eyes could picture,

          only to tear the paper, later,
             ripping out a flat, grimacing tangle of lines,
                   his friend, grotesque on canvas.

     Night beckons;
              his sketch, made anew, alive as
                     he lay within burgeoning wants
                           that he never wished
                                        before

O brother, tell us where you've been!
What is the world like beyond these trenches?

Is it safe to crawl out —
we heard the wolves were just 'were-' with a sweet tooth.
Won't you help us sniff out the lotus from the roses,
their thorns so cleverly hidden…

Sisters, we're tired of hiding in the dark,
our eyelids shut by the nurse's damp cloth;

To our champions: were you blessed in your travails?
Did you find the loving,
the caring,
the fabled Happy People that
Nashville balladeers croon about?

brave children, remember to return;
we dreamed of setting foot in a place of our own, too.
does one exist in their world ||

// NOT THEIR WORLD
NOT OURS EITHER
BUT ALL OF OUR
UNIVERSE //

part of my brain thinks you're a phony.
the rest of it knows we're just the same.
~
what if i were a pastor
comfort in the fear of an all-loving god
would i be hapless like a prospector
tailing the gold rush, seeking
sour grapes instead?

child, i do not pretend to live your pain.
though if i were to drop this cross and collar
all that they thought i was
would you let your story be heard?

google was my babysitter
not a very good one i'll admit

perhaps more like a cool uncle
with infinitely scrolling treats

the more i tickled his algorithm {
search queries = seo && [freewheeling whims];
}

OR ||
stray thoughts seeking foster homes
just fronts for attention farms

reaping curiosity off the vine
while overclocking the study room

being held to father's chair like a vice
if only to keep me safe in a web

spun by a child's simple thoughts
and a sentient robot babysitter

squelched between bodies spiralling into escalators,
my trained eye couldn't help hovering a little left

right there, coming into view at the watch store,
though never caught dead anywhere near M·A·C

but neither should my stares, blatant without restraint,
fixed on a trio chattering like keys jangling

to the beat of a million other stolen glances,
only for them to slip away for some froyo.

rather than melt into a fruity confection myself,
I steel my eyes back into the spiralling masses

blocking out three gym bags marked 'WATER POLO',
my untrained heart pulses still for their suntan

and the bleachers of yesterday, the sight and sweat,
jocks jangling for position in glistening waters —

only then did I dare scream my lungs out,
safe in the crowds of a high school roar.