How do you tell a person who is so used to being left, that they are blessed with the ability to love in full capacity?
How do I tell myself that I am so much more than my thoughts?
You see, my mind is a waiting room. And it starts out as follows,
I am seated against a wall watching the door as it opens, one person at a time entering and taking a seat. Slowly the room begins to crowd and they’re all talking over each other and it’s so hard trying to figure out who is saying what and for what reason because it quickly shifts into a fight and the noise just becomes deafening and I want it to end. I want it to end so badly but I’m a coward and I can’t seem to stop the thoughts from tearing me apart. I’m a paper airplane and the pouring rain drowns me. And no one can tell how this sadness is tearing me apart. No one can see how I’m in constant pain, no one knows that I’m unable to fall asleep but to the sound of her voice and I’m drowning and I don’t think anyone’s capable of savings me.
Just leave.
I get it.
Don’t explain.
I’ll save myself if I don’t take it first.

Guide us to your holy footprints,

Deity who holds the time.

Bless us and also our brethren,

Forgive all our foul crime.



Our soul cannot support our flesh,

The cross heavier than faith.

Sins always come so sweet and fresh,

A great whisper of wraith.



Beyond our sins, a hope won't die,

That you'll pour some mercy.

Heaven please heed our candid cry,

Give lights to our journey.



You know us than we've known ourselves,

Each strand of our hair.

You have read all books on our shelves,

Of our sins and prayers.



So let your cloud washes our hue,

Of green, red, black and blue.

Lets our white initiates anew,

To be closer to you.



June 20, 2017

Mysterious_aries

He suspected he was unique
Maybe even a bit of a freak
The colors of music
From the old jukebox in the den
His only friend
Morning, noon and night
Recite, recite, recite

The barren sidewalks of Palmetto ,
yesterdays shoppes in boarded disarray ,
hushed avenues , empty Water Oak parks ..
Creosote treated railroad ties fill Spring air
currents , Friday afternoon capability shattered ..
Windblown , meager paper evidence collects at
curbside , this abandoned village , forever reduced to a four way stop on Sunday nights* ..