The inability of knowing what to say
to my father when he cries
My memories have been so fixed
so sculpted that it no longer stands

I have sympathy for the villain
and disdain for the hero
because they dress up as one another
so I can’t tell them apart

your wounds never shallowed
the furrows made way for flowers

we ride on bikes through the field
blending the lines and boundaries

mysteriously they would grow
to be scattered and no longer staid

tell me does it become gloomy
all of the darkening of the sun?

the rain in constant worry of love
gets deflected yet some seeps through

call the ceiling off, to stop it's shading
uncover the holes and lay inside them

Know not how to survive
in the desolation and suspicion
The magnetism of sky and ground
would leave the rain in suspension

Somewhere is an apocalyptic energy,
the gap, the hypothetical monopole
I wanted so badly to find you there
But one must focus on the road

the roses you picked
and thorns you grew
all watered down
like a sour lemonade