Now in California we are without the paper towels

The women have hidden the crimes

The poor must begin the work again
Alone

Washing the grown up body in the public place

No policy writing and speaking for your slaves anymore thousand oaks California

Thousand Oaks California is the policy writing speaking think tank of American journalism and government

I don’t know what’s going to happen
I don’t know what the outcome will be
And that
To me
Is the scariest part
Of everything

I’m scared
Even with the army behind me
I’m scared of the look in her eyes
When she realizes
That it’s me holding the knife
Not her anymore
I’m scared
That I’ll still have to stay
And nothing will be okay
I’m scared
Of this sudden change
It’s not just my life
It’s everyones
Everything will be different
I haven’t even had the chance
To find myself yet
I’m scared
I don’t know what I’ve done
But I know it’s huge
Bigger than me
And it’s not fair
But I’m scared still

This little light of mine.
The one darkness cannot bind.
Guides me through the wilderness of shadow.

This little light of mine.
Oh, heavenly little shrine.
Little candle of inextinguishable flame.

This little light of mine.
The beacon to the skyline.
Call down my angel.

Come with me—
don’t sleep, please stay.
For now, don’t fade into absence;
let this second count the way I pray.

Fill the silence—please,
help me stay.
Make a noise:
even a single chime of wind
would let my heart sway.

Don’t go yet,
like colours draining from a bouquet.
It’s dry and wounded,
but surely it can stay—right?

They stole you,
sold you to the heavens,
yet in my realm
you must remain.
You will stay—
though my soul shatters
each time I face that ruthless truth.

I can’t bear to watch the day
when I can’t fill the empty space
where once you lay.

My home stands in horror:
your breath no longer collides with my air.
My garden lost its flowers;
sunshine refuses to appear
the moment you were snatched
into the nimbus glare.

Along these aisles of fading souls
I hoped to walk beside you—
but you left before me.

I wish you stayed.
I wish you stayed.
I wish you still stayed
—here—with me.

To think my problems matter
me and my little worries
To think my issues even matter
To think I'm the unluckiest man
and now I see others suffer a fraction of what I can even fathom
and I may even consider myself the luckiest
for me and my tiny problems don't come close
to what worse people could suffer
to think I was going through a lot
yet out here I seem so privileged
like a tiny speck...crying out for attention...
Now I've seen people suffer...what I've suffered in my sleep
they are living the life...The life I've had in my nightmares
The bigger picture...is...truly terrifying
To think I even mattered...