To write, or not to write.

That is my question.
My question to myself.

Do I write and keep hurting myself with memories?
Or do I sit tight and hope for the best…
Do I write and risk making things worse?
Or do I stop fearing being further misunderstood…
Do I write about the things I’m at fault for?
Or do I write about the things I’m not…
Do I write about why I did the things I did?
Or do I write about why they did the things they did…
Do I write in an attempt to make amends?
Or do I write to finally end it all…

But then again…

Why would I write?
What would be the point?

Would it be to try ending things amicably?
Or to somehow try to stay friends…
Would it be to try explaining my point of view?
Or to somehow try understanding theirs…
Would it be to point out the things I was trying to avoid?
Or to point out how they've ignorantly walked us all into them…
Would it be to understand why they blame me for certain things?
Or to explain why I blame them for certain things…
Would it be to point out how and why I broke for so long?
Or would they just simply not even care…
Would it be to remind them how they too have been stuck in a rut before?
Or would they just be callous and say that it’s different…
Would it be to try understanding if I was used?
Or would I just end up realizing for how long…
Would it be to find answers for all of the unanswered questions?
Or would I just be left with even more questions than answers…
Would it be to convince myself they’re a decent person?
Or would it be to realize they’re a heartless animal…
Would it be to understand what traps I’ve pushed them into?
Or to write about the ones they’ve pushed both me and themselves into…
Would it be to explain the soul crushing dreams that have been vividly etched into my memory?
Or to explain the countless sleepless nights for months, drenched in cold sweat, shifting from bed to couch to floor in my own home...
Would it even be worth it at this point?
Or should I just realize there is no way to ever trust them again regardless of all of the above…

Would it be to try and write a concrete poem?
Or to forget the rhythm halfway through and just get my thoughts out…

To right, or not to right...

I guess I’ll just write about maybe writing…

I am deeply sad
because they don't see the stars
of your existence.

2015, April 22

to experience a thousand
Suns setting, rising
with a stroke of a pen

to bask in the warmth
surrounding you
in the absence of light

to know that dying
is but a step
towards being one with the Great Everything

to watch your own flesh and blood
crawling, walking, loving
growing old, growing wise

to feel connected with Nature
by some weird concoction
of your unique mind

to infuse emotions
through simple words
on the canvas of your life you paint

to be enthralled by the magnanimity
of the Eternal Human Soul
wandering, wandering to become whole

to love, to write
to live in spite the crushing weight
of your dark existence

to be human, to be more
to become the Creator
you've always been

I am the disappeared
my name spoken no more
by the tongues of zealous lovers.
I will not weep as my eyes look upon my banished heart
nor will I revel in it's decay
I will only mourn that time in it's passing is not as brief as your passion for my smile.

When one chooses to use Roman numerals to number the pages within
the brand new book that's a clear evidence that one loves to play Tarock.

Every time I write tree lines
Thunderbolt strikes
*Frequently