Here we dilute ourselves into many
Things to stop our world
In the middle of its course:

Your skies are caught in dreams,
You bloom only flowers you recognize.
It hides the truth between
Your ears,
It hides the selfishness of your poetry,
The sighs of life in your grey solitude,
Your tongues are thirsting for something,
And you have become a pop cultural
Verse of repetition,
And the world will catch you
From behind your skies,
You can no longer hide in your abyss.
  
   And to state what I mean unpoetical,
   I see the hate rising in a tide,
   The world I know ignored in this forum
   Of intelligence, hate gaining tide.
   Of people ignoring the bigger picture,
   Where are you?
   I see nothing of the tsunami that
   Has overtaken the country here
   In this place where poetry and political
   Topics mesh more than you know,
   This is your voice,
   I implore you to change your flow.
   We live beneath this destiny,
    Beautiful Earth,
    But if we stop our words,
    Are our words even of worth?

We will be alright, she says
Won't we?
We will be
With a deep blue sigh
I said, knowing
But not knowing if
We will be
Ever the same
But I hope it shows in my eyes
That I haven't slept
Thoughts berating my eeriest senses
Making me numb
Leaving me number

I know it's crazy that I'm empty
And you are still here
But I did dream of having you
Why can't I dream of losing you?
Our conversations are getting shorter
Why am I not surprised
The yearning; lingering no longer
Why does it always have to end
Like this.

It started with the longing
For your attention
And then you refute
And I try again and I get it
Then comes the indifference
Shades of loving-care, laced with awws; cute
Followed almost inevitably
By nonchalantness
Calls and texts unreturned
You think I'm cheating
Quarrels; often unwarranted
Then I start making you feel you nag too much
But you do
I'm sorry I say; the sighs within the apologies;
I'm sorry, Over and again

Now we are at a ****** of sorts
And it's not the kind that's found in clouds of nines
I can't keep going like this
I can't deal with this anymore Vic
Do you want us to end this?
Do you think we could be better?
Questions; more questions
Answers you already have

Then the accusations of deception
Of lies and deception; emotional blackmailing
This is a recurring phase
But it breaks me everytime
Letting go; letting it go, you go
I mean, I already let go before I met you
But I've tried, everytime, I try
And everytime I fail
And in picking myself up to try again
I make you fall for me, then I fail again

I'm broken in shards, and it's my pieces that hurt you
And me
And I would be devastated, but I'm already damaged
I would be hurt, scarred for life
But I don't have the heart

I don't have a heart.

I understand they find dinosaur bones there in your backyard. Big ones. I've never been to your house or even close to that neighborhood, but ever since you've written me, I am completely intrigued. What you said about me, I think about you in an execrable Hemingway way, maybe as in his "Death In The Afternoon." All the goring. Faintheartedness is nothing to be carried by bullfighters or by bone hunters, I suppose. If there were a way of going back to days of nobler more romanticized slaughtering in bullrings, without the controversy, I'd have to say it is more evident in our modern day Jurassic Park flicks where nerdish paleontologists are transformed into  fiendishly handsome toreadors.

I know I'm not making much sense. Bullfights and dinosaur rustling, what's to compare? One being non-civilized though colorful and bathetic, the other fantastical but forgivable because the beasts bite back. Oh, if only I could explain these machismo machinations. What a ruse. How song and dance does intrigue. Please write me again from South Dakota. I'd like to book one of those dusty dinosaur tours before I go extinct.  Bone hunts, bullfights, same difference.

In the End, the Faithful were rewarded,
But there were just a few.
In the End, most screamed with terror,
As the guilty always do.
In the End, there was a final vote,
And we thought consensus ruled,
But in the End, the voting over,
We discovered we were fooled.

In the End, we ran for shelter,
There was none there to be found;
All the Faithful had secured it;
For they were Heaven-bound.
As the flames lept all around us,
We begged forgiveness from our Lord
In a Hell of our own makng,
With riches saved we can’t afford.

For the riches we were chasing,
Stole the goodness from our soul.
All the gold and all the silver
Melted into worthless coal,
And I stood and watched with sadness
Knowing I had had my chance
As the flames lept all around me,
Hell’s eternal damning dance.
PwL  3/19/16