Apr 2018
When I met you,
I never knew how hard it was to not laugh
The way we cracked up
The way your face wrinkled up when you laughed,
Like creasess on a paper
Frantically straightened
Only to find the light fold still there.
We laughed like old trees,
So close for so long
Roots like Memories
Leaves like words we knew we'd say
But you were hiding something,
Something worse than just
The insects under your bark.
Deeper than the sap in your limbs
Deeper than the growth-rings that measure character
You had The 94
Now, all but our worry remains
You see, it's not a blight,
This 94, not a disease,
It's the whispers in your roots,
The deathly cadence of the wind
The indescribable,
Overpowering,
Trickle of twisted sunsets
And deformed seasons,
Winter sprouting buds--
Boils upon your branches,
Sickening grey around your trunk
But not one visible sign
Only the molting of your smile,
So folded and creased,
Only the fade in your eyes
While Spring at its peak
An unseen sulk in your boughs
Brittling your laugh
To crackling sighs
All this, why 94?
Now the story ends where it began
So full a number 94, but only the
Measure of how overcome
A surplus of spite
A great harvest of sorrow,
Your greatest and happiest
But never, 94
While Spring states, "Alive!"
Only 6% so,
While Autumn brings cloaking frost,
94, brings the snow
Your Headress of Sorrow
Your blood-gleaming boil,
Your invisible meanace.
"The tree was never good enough,"
A passing being once said
'It's leaves don't fall right'
'Why was it planted here?'
'Why is there no fruit'
'Why'
'How'
'What'
And so, your 94:
Never Good Enough
But I ask: redemption?
Regrowth?
Another Harvest?
Another Season?
Another,
andanotherandanotherandanotherandanotherandanother
Now we're back,
No leaves on your brow,
Roots not flowing for now,
But,
barely awake for the sun.
Its smile is warm,
Rays of life.
Golden, gleaming--
Breathe!
You're still here
Breathe!
It's only you
Breathe!
But how-- Alive?
Breathe?
Where's 94?
Only husks remain
No more shadows
No oily Rain,
No more grey
Or bloodened boughs
Just you,
and Me,
and the sun.
I never knew how hard it was to not laugh
The way we cracked up
The way your face wrinkled up when you laughed,
Like creasess on a paper
Frantically straightened
Only to find the light fold still there.
We laughed like old trees,
So close for so long
Roots like Memories
Leaves like words we knew we'd say
But you were hiding something,
Something worse than just
The insects under your bark.
Deeper than the sap in your limbs
Deeper than the growth-rings that measure character
You had The 94
Now, all but our worry remains
You see, it's not a blight,
This 94, not a disease,
It's the whispers in your roots,
The deathly cadence of the wind
The indescribable,
Overpowering,
Trickle of twisted sunsets
And deformed seasons,
Winter sprouting buds--
Boils upon your branches,
Sickening grey around your trunk
But not one visible sign
Only the molting of your smile,
So folded and creased,
Only the fade in your eyes
While Spring at its peak
An unseen sulk in your boughs
Brittling your laugh
To crackling sighs
All this, why 94?
Now the story ends where it began
So full a number 94, but only the
Measure of how overcome
A surplus of spite
A great harvest of sorrow,
Your greatest and happiest
But never, 94
While Spring states, "Alive!"
Only 6% so,
While Autumn brings cloaking frost,
94, brings the snow
Your Headress of Sorrow
Your blood-gleaming boil,
Your invisible meanace.
"The tree was never good enough,"
A passing being once said
'It's leaves don't fall right'
'Why was it planted here?'
'Why is there no fruit'
'Why'
'How'
'What'
And so, your 94:
Never Good Enough
But I ask: redemption?
Regrowth?
Another Harvest?
Another Season?
Another,
andanotherandanotherandanotherandanotherandanother
Now we're back,
No leaves on your brow,
Roots not flowing for now,
But,
barely awake for the sun.
Its smile is warm,
Rays of life.
Golden, gleaming--
Breathe!
You're still here
Breathe!
It's only you
Breathe!
But how-- Alive?
Breathe?
Where's 94?
Only husks remain
No more shadows
No oily Rain,
No more grey
Or bloodened boughs
Just you,
and Me,
and the sun.
