We get along the (path)way
We partway along the way

Both sentences for the same reason

Just because we need to get somewhere

Have you ever been to one of them Electric Hills?
Where gravity runs backwards
As up the incline you freewheel?
And it gets sold as part of a day trip package deal
With a ruined Abbey
And a plate of squid?

I love Easter
It like a more honest Christmas
A few months stumbling
To really what what's life is
To take the glory
Then run?
Or take the deal
Already spun?
The Apostles
All dealt in their own way
Wether the 30 bits of silver
Or Crucified upside down to deliver
The affirmation
Of the light
The truth
And the way.

your soul speaks of dark and light
the sun shined but you cast me in the dark
did you know i’m scared of it?
bad things happen there
between the hours of dusk and dawn
but i never wanted to tell you
i never wanted to add
to your growing list of burdens
for i was already one
maybe since birth
perhaps even before
“i did my best”
yes there was minimal food
a lack of love and care i didn’t realize i needed
there was light and a roof over my head
you left me there
and the light burned out
i sat in the dark scared and alone
did you ever care?
you just wanted someone to take care of you
even if the cost was my innocence
i don’t think you did it on purpose
and i don’t think you’re consciously
aware of the harm you caused
i’ve been screaming for years
even in whispers
please just hear me
please just understand me

Fear
made me
F$%k
the best
thing
that my
heart
felt

Words, perhaps—emotions mirrored,
More than letters, they are—reminds the lover.
As the 5, 4, 3 takes over their vows,
Flaunting its beauty,
They embrace one another.

Beauty she is—perhaps a swan,
Gentle he is—perhaps the lake.
A perfect picture they draw together,
As they ring one another—at 5.

A duel now sparks with fury,
Hearts quickly turn to ashes.
None ready to accept their mistake,
“Sorry” hides behind their fate,
While the red thread turns vague.

"Nothing lasts forever," says the bard,
As Romeo and Juliet turn into tale.
The 5 and 4 meet their end—
A mere word, says the very same mate.

“Lover’s quarrel,” says the blonde.
“It’s the ring!” says the brunette.
“Did love ever win the race?”
Questions the bird,
As it fails to accept their fate.

Forgetful they are of their 5, 4, 3s,
The following numbers turning pale.
Now, tell your goodbyes to the poem.
'Cause you see, my love—
Love’s sour, sorry’s burnt, and bye’s bitter.

I shall go; now, you decide—
Whether you will say your 5, 4, 3s,
Or let the past collide.