It is time
they are leaving us
one by one

the humble
have taken a bow and
are ascending from
us like dew does the Sun

And we are left here
to figure out what a
mess we're in and why
they were kind enough
not to hide

We could follow
their muses until
it all faded

but we'd be left with our
own smug devices
the giant would creep back in
Then we would surely die

You cannot disturb
what is already
making quite a raucous
in between the
gun shots and chatter
is this inaudible void
that feeds itself
when no one is looking
to hear it is like
hearing God
A frequency at which
we are frantically
trying to get away from
To be entertained
and extracted
from the sacredness of
what is subtle
We are a bad
loud bunch
just learning how
to be silence
learning how to
be God.

In a dream,
she follows me towards
The crevice of the world.

My mother, indigo raging
like a sharp scream within my brain.

I would never rid of her peculiar grin.
Her smirk, a missile, seeks out
the errors of my ways.

But life after cunning life,
She finds me settling at the root
then cuts me off.

I sit sustained here
in the moment composed
and waiting on her return.

She is the real culprit
of my shadow.
And knows this strange abyss.

I choose to keep her away
In the silence between my breath
To begin loving her from afar.

In hopes that she will one day
find herself without a curse
And out of her mad little box.

Something
cold is in the air,
an aura of ice
and phlegm.
All day I've built
a lifetime and now
the sun sinks to
undo it.
The horizon bleeds
and ***** its thumb.
The little red thumb
goes out of sight.
And I wonder about
this lifetime with myself,
this dream I'm living.
I could eat the sky
like an apple
but I'd rather
ask the first star:
why am I here?
why do I live in this house?
who's responsible?
eh?