I orbit the day
like a dead star,
lightless,
remembering fire.

Grief is a slow eclipse
vanishing
by degrees.

Still, drifting forward,
trailing the dust
of what is lost.

The cosmos turns away
and the silence grieves alone.

We think we're saving us.
Saving humanity
through
technology.
Convenience we think,
is of utmost importance.
And through that very convenience,
we lose ourselves.
True intelligence
in trade for
the artificial.
The greatest feats of humanity
imitated in mere seconds.
Art.
Literature,
Paintings,
Expression,
All consumed
by the raging desire
for convenience.
How much further must we fall
before realization
strikes the tree of ignorance,
revealing its roots
that bleed with the ink of true creativity?

I often wonder —

What is more painful:

to lose someone you once had,

                      or

to never have anyone to lose?

Humid air
middle of the summer
every dog and child happy to be outside
surrounded by hippies and
cheap speakers playing rock ‘n’ roll
along the river in front of us were small ferries
I can't remember what happened yesterday but
I recall the feeling of when I first saw you
turning around slowly to glance at
who I didn't know
will spend the rest of my life
dancing in back of my mind
there
was the woman whom I didn't know
will always I desire
the very, only wanted one
never will I ever have.

If paper and pen
understand me to my core,
then it is my voice that betrays me evermore.
I know better, yet opening up
stays my biggest fear.
I am surface-leveled,
neither there, nor here.
And so comfortably, with no fuss,
I stay a projection,
nothing more than dust.
I am your imagination,
no depth,
no width.
I am only but a shell.
An empty figure,
stripped of will and vigor.