We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

Why would you run after her?
When she don't like to be chased;
Why would you insist on fitting in to her world?
When she don't want you to be there;
Why would you give all your love?
When it is not what she wants to have;
Why would you wait for her?
When you know it will just be a waste of time?
Why would you fight for her?
When she is not worth fighting for;
Why do anything for her?
When she doesn't appreciate everything you do;
Why live your life for her?
When she doesn't even care about you;
Why her?
When I am just right here.

A blue black cloud, all over me is written JOY
in the script of vapor, dense, moist and meaningful,
I am light, like a feather, the breeze is in love with me for that,
I love his gentle persuasion to waft, move about, explore..
and then--ravaged by wind my love changes direction.

I love freedom more than anything, but forgot limits, hover
now, I am no more attached to the green hills, they are jealous,
far above them am I, untouched by their vainglorious pride,
I am not hard-hearted, parched fields send shivers of lightning
break me in to thousand  smaller pieces, scatter around.

My love for this earth is kindled by the sights unfurling below
all the egrets, cormorants, storks and herons of great magnificence,
those kind hearted friends that fly with me often are in pain
like the farmers, there isn't enough water for anything.

A cloud is a thought, inspired by the love for mother earth
by the ocean I am gifted to the breeze, to tour around,
on many lands fell my shade, found life in all varieties,
now is the time to be kind at heart, melt, fall in torrents.

If you're the moon,
I'm the sun,
hopelessly chasing night
but you're on the run.

Or maybe I'm the tide.
and as I taste your shore,
I'm ****** out to sea,
desperately longing for more.

I never dreamed of being
your tragic impossibility,
but for you and me,
love was never meant to be.

*m.w.

Thunderstorms twirl across my skin,
hurricanes dancing up my spine,
lightning erupts from her skies,
and I find myself enraptured inside.

I see galaxies form beneath her skin,
Supernovas waging war within,
fighting to escape her prisons,
and I'm praying she'll let them win.

If her melody is the universe,
I want to wake up beside the stars.
Let me sing in meteor-showers,
dance with Venus in the acid rain,
I'll skip in the asteroid fields,
jumping nebula fences,
because there's no limits;
the places she takes me are endless.


*~Matthew Walker~

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