A beating heart, a dream
A dying soul, shedding tear
Fueled with anger, blasphemes
A cast out, breeding hate
Not against man, not against God
Just a selfless strife
On the ways of man and the ways of God

Death is just one breath away,
While living far from lies,
True to self, and the others' lives
Vision so bright, invisible to man
But to this product,
Of blind hatred.

"Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis;
Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis."

Eater of Gods, this creature will be
The tortured, tolerator of pain
All his dreams gone, dead in vain
Yet breathing, to take your breath away
Not to avenge, but to clear
All the fake that is in us.

The world is broken.
Not just cracked,
Like a chip out of a shot glass,
Like a scratch on a bathroom mirror-
It's shattered-
tearing itself apart,
Succumbing to chaos and greed
Like they were the only things we had to choose between.
The violence and anger that's erupting-
It's in schools
On the streets
In our churches
In our homes-
Consuming and replacing
The hope we might have had for peace
And a future;
For anything more than we ever wished we could be.
Who stole our dreams,
And made us think this is what we're destined to be?
Who forced these lies down our throats
Until we gave up and allowed our hearts to be stolen,
Our eyes to be blinded?
Or did we sell our souls as commodity,
Bargaining away what made us yearn to live;
Piecing out parcels of ourselves and our
World
For just one more minute of time
That we think we are owed?
Not to seem crazy,
But what if the answer lay in the depths of our souls,
Where we never look,
For fear that weve been wrong all along?
What if the answer was compassion,
and solidarity-
An irrational belief that the world can be healed,
Instead of brought to its knees?
And what if our anger could be used to progress,
By living for happiness,
By practicing kindness and love?
I know, I know-
It sounds-
  Outdated-
      Old news-
         Last year's hippie tripe;
But what if your refusal
Is because you already dont care?
What if not trying is what broke things in the first place,
And your apathy is the poison you feed yourself daily?
The world is sad,
and broken;
But then...
maybe we are too.

It's peaceful today
No overwhelming emotions
Trying to leak out

It seems balanced
Life is not perfect
But it's not chaos

Being chasing fires
Yet you were still a dream
Butterflies on the other side of the waterfall
Close, but can't seem to reach

You were a sandstorm
I was the Northern Light
Chaos
I guess i led you on.

Some borders can not be moved with fingers. Some borders are moved by the will, wish, struggle, everyday struggle.
Drop by drop of blood, drop by drop of sweat, drop, tear, ocean.

I no longer want to try to move them. From now on I tear them down with my bare hands, fingers scratched to the bones, I bite and rip with my teeth until I'm left alone in the wasteland.
Borders do not exist. I dig out all feelings that were hidden, pushed aside, forgotten, shoved under the rug, tamed. I pull out anger, hatred and bitterness from the depths of my soul, I release them to roam free, I open Pandora's box and let them all out to create chaos, to destroy and to hate, to rage and ravage until all that's left is one big and empty nothing, until I, myself am left empty and clear, and free.
An empty paper sheet, something that has yet to start, something that's about to become, something that breaths and sings and screams and exists, something that still just threatens to conquer the world, confident, with a carefree, rebellious grin on the face.
Something wild and indocile, something that doesn't care, something that threatens to become in spite of everything, something that doesn't care about your opinion, because it does not exist for you, it does not exist to be liked by you, it does not exist to be appropriate, to fit in, to comply, to please you.
That something doesn't need you to exist.
It exists in spite of you, in spite of the world, just for itself.

Coffee sessions at 0219 St. Café,
Past 4 PM in the afternoon,
Flipping the rattan-made tissue holder,
"What's our case for today?"

Hours would go on for stories and opinions,
About our lives we all have yet fathomed.

It would start with no "Hello's" or "Hey's"
But "café later?" and "No" wasn't an answer,
Friends exist to have your back,
and for coffee and life discussions.

In a slow yet seemingly rapid motion of time,
No more greetings or invites or even goodbyes,
the usual café across the street was taken down,
Before anyone knew, we were walking down separated roads, it was a slow fade.

A lovely, comprehending friendship and frequent coffees,
all wrapped up with an invincible quiet farewell,
Worse than a bleeding heartbreak without any anesthesia,
I hold my composure up for such bittersweet ruins.

IA