Why do I have to go when there are things such as poetry
How can we go to places and forget the people we saw
Their tongues speaking in tongues while their brains all forgot
And made an effort to bleed sincerously while it was still time
To be honest we could have given anything we were made of
The point was asked but somehow nothing could be done
Somehow still it all remains vague and unknown
We talk about the words in an endless repeating cycle
And laugh in a crisis and then stop and stare at each other
How I want to speak to you in a way that can be heard
All through your skin and blood and become what can't be talked about
The infinite we chased, that only dead men caught
That gives us what we need and will always ache for
The pain of being remunerated through oblivion or pleasure
Sometimes beginning to give a glimpse of a heaven made in here
Made human at last I understood it so clearly
The confusion that holds me like a mother in tears
As another night wishes to be endless through me
Everytime that I believed has led to a greater destiny
And no one, no one is made human by words only
They, and you, and I grew as we were supposed to be
Made into ourselves by thoughts of things that can never be
I wish to stay eternal, pure, but that's a lie
I gave myself enough authority to try and go out under the sun
Like natural children all humans and trees running in joy
Pure closeness to everything and everyone at anytime
Moments of salvation that can be reached through madness
And love, like water to your face, like crying in front of the intensity,
Like hands reaching out to welcome you into creation
The contact of souls unheard and alone
Warmth forgotten by history unlike inhumanity in all forms
Too common to be true and I only believe in stories
I have no identity that I wish to pursue
I have no more upon entering myself
Because the well of thinking is common and universal
With original speeches from unoriginal ideas
Or the opposite and images consciously exposed to be wept upon
Half a century later drenched in water from tears or spit
Loved until death, which means no death at all
And repeated ****** of a feeling shared