The unity of anger is a paradise of redness.
It is a wall that cannot be broken by any means except understanding.
It is the self in its royal attire come to announce personal truth that cannot be shaken, or maybe it can.
Either way one is in doubt concerning one's abilities and shrinks from the strong servants.
For one's reality is that of a fawn, brittle and weak, yet attacked by the world just because it lives.
It is the red eye of the world and it presses down further on it still.
It is a unity in which you can see all - from a jail cell.
It is understood misunderstanding.
It is being stuck in a rut of being.
It is the moksha of being dumbfounded.
It is a hundred martyrs vying for sorrow.

But calling anger a unity necessarily makes the anger leave and the unity come.

If tears could speak would they be quiet whispers, barely audible? Or LOUD CRASHES with every splash on the skin?
Would they sing you a sad melody or tell a story to draw you in?

If tears could write would they tell of lost loved ones or simply a fight? Would they recall battles with others or just from within?

But, tears cannot speak, nor write, they simply fall. They create a path of their own choosing. Silently slipping down your face.  Yet they are so loud in your mind that you constantly wonder….
What if a tear could speak?

Humanity is your ability to feel,
It's you're ability to think.
To experience love,
To live for someone else.

It's one's ability to feel empathy,
To experience a myriad of emotions.
That it what it is to be Human.
But what about me?

I don't feel happy,
I don't feel empathy.
I've forgotten the warmth of love.
I survive for myself.

My happiness left with my family.
My love left with a divorce.
My empathy left with the first shot.
Am I still Human?

Can i still be Human
If all I can feel is hatred.
Can I still be Human
If all I have is anger.

Can I still be Human
if I only experience is pain.
With all that I have become,
Am I still considered Human?

shame used to bleed out of me
vulnerability an open wound
i desperately tried to hide

until i found i could stand it no longer
and buried the emotion behind smiles and laughter
acting as though i hide nothing in my heart

Promises are like candies,
Beautifully wrapped in hope,
Colourful yet deceiving,
I was high on your candies.

As I wait and wait and
Wait,
Your candies turn out grey,
Colourless and bitter,
Your promises turned into
a delayed devotion

But I waited,
Engorging on your sweetness,
Until they choke me hopeless.

Remembering feels like a finger dipping
Into a puddle at the back of my head

Our memories are still water
Cold, muddied, stepped in

They fill the dimples in the asphalt
Of my mind

If remembering is a water sport
Then I am an old fisherman

Trudging my boots from bay to bay
Fishing line gripped in pruned hand

Looking through the small pools
Finding goldfish in a city of pavement

There are cats in all my dreams,
And I don't know why

Cause I don’t dream of tuna
Or mice or flies

They sit on windows,
Waltz through halls

Stare from the ground when I fly
Nudge my knees when I’m naked at the ball

Watch as I drown in honey
Paw at the bugs crawling up my arms

Sit on my lap as the plane goes down
Chirp along to the fire alarms

Do cats run out of dreams when they sleep?
And so wander into other people’s?

Is that why, when I wake up,
My cat always kisses my temples