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There are monsters eating at your soul

Just a few bites now and then

Just enough to make you wonder

Where the drain is

What tub are you filling when that emptiness sets?

Where does your heart go when you have nothing to pour it into?

Where has all the time gone?

Because you’ve got bags so big your eyes look like caves

At least now you know where all your tears went

And why don’t you sleep anymore?

You’ve never been good looking enough for beauty sleep but still

Didn’t anyone ever teach you what it means to be sacred?

When you die

You’ll see me one last time in this mirror

And I’ll show you everything sacred you missed

Every time you make someone smile

Is sacred

The gloves you wear when you box the hell out of yourself

Are sacred

Every girl you’ve ever wanted to kiss

Their lips are sacred

Every moment you spend reminding your brother and sister how important they actually are

Is sacred

Every morning

Every afternoon

Every evening for the rest of your life

Should be sacred

Your poetry even if it never passes your lips

Even if it never changes lives

Even if no one ever likes it

It is sacred

The time it takes to finally learn to love yourself

Is sacred

I know you’ve got years to go

And scars to heal

Your flesh is not done bubbling from the heat inside of your soul

And the monsters you are too stupid to ask to leave

Are not even close to full

And it might not be long before we meet again

Just know that not everything is going to make sense

Yeah you might have been a mistake

But so many mistakes

Are sacred
Buddha taught
about "mere words"
since words
in one sense
are like numbers
without any real meaning
like they're all Greek to me
but I think
being something
like a poet
that words
can be powerful
with the capability
of transforming lives
by the process
of the links
that occur
in the mind,
connecting a myriad
of connotations
and denotation
that set off
a potent brain chemistry
that can make the difference
between a kind of sanity
and a kind of madness.
You will never know the feeling
of the smooth valley between her hips.

Your fingers will not cross
those lands, peaks and hollows.

You won't stumble across buried treasure
or the chance to please a woman
so divine.

— The End —