When the grains of your sand
Moved
One by one
Slowly, at first,
Shifting under me
Like it was normal;
It meant nothing.

Until the avalanche came
And a million tiny grains
Grew in velocity
And violence
And suddenly, my very ground,
Had slipped; shifted,
To under the feet of another.

So here now I stand
On this bare; barren ground
Worn smooth by your leaving
Silent in your wake.

I pick up a rock
Hold it in bloodied hands,
And I use it
To forget;
To carve new ground to stand on
But this time I shall not need it,
It shall need me.

To leave you is to love you,
isn't that the hard truth.
As I walk outside your doorway,
taking with me all my youth.
We will grow old someday,
and think of one another,
but I choose to walk away,
rather than to smother.
When we meet again,
on a day far from here,
will we be like two lovebirds,
holding one another dear.
Or will you leave and find a man,
who can satisfy your needs,
or will you follow the plan,
and help plant loves seeds.
Love is like a plant,
fighting for that sun,
but the sun can dry it out,
shooting it like a gun.
But if we can shield ourselves,
from the overbearing shots,
we may outgrow these restrictive pots,
and hopefully connect the dots.
Let our leaves touch so softly,
like your gentle hands,
I hope that our grasp will depict,
our growth across the lands,
as they reach past the soil which restricts,
and breaking through the vines which conflicts,
we will meet once again,
connected by this natural chain.

Irrelevant
Are the names
Are the ages
Is the time
Is the year.

Unessesary
To keep track
Each pulsing minute
Is it's own
Why do we insist upon
Owning it?

We people
Why not content?
With our noses
With our thighs

Why must everything
Change?
When isn't change
What we fear most?

Set upon change for our bodies
Determined to withhold
Our futures.

The whitty twists
Of reality.

a cigarette on his dry lips,
he is cold, he grips
onto the lit cigarette,
imagining a person's
neck,
and he is determined
to break it.