Water holds no loyalties to memory.  
It will swallow your name whole,  
Churn it into a language  
Only stones can decipher,  
Then spit it out as foam—  
A frothy eulogy  
No one asked for.  

It moves like betrayal dressed in silk,  
Soft to the touch  
But sharp enough to carve bones into weapons.  
Do not mistake its stillness for mercy.  
Even in its quiet,  
It dreams of drowning cities  
And filling lungs with liquid sermons.  

Water does not mourn.  
It erases.  
It is the great unmaker,  
Pulling the faces of lovers,  
The hands of mothers,  
And the footprints of gods  
Into its endless, churning womb.  

I’ve seen it carry grief like a crown,  
Rivers wearing the ashes of cathedrals  
And the charred wood of promises  
As though they were jewels.  
And yet, it forgets.  
It will forget you,  
Just as it forgot the mountains that once knelt to it,  
Just as it forgot the villages  
That tried to tame its chaos.  

Drink from it if you dare.  
It will not quench your thirst;  
It will bloom in your throat,  
A garden of salt and regret,  
Each drop a seed of storms.  

Even the sky cannot hold it.  
When water falls,  
It claws its way back to the earth,  
Filling every crack with its liquid hunger.  
It breaks its mirrors on the surface,  
Each shard a fractured memory  
It refuses to keep.  

It whispers,  
But it never listens.  
You could spill your secrets into it,  
And it would carry them away  
Not as treasures, but as burdens.  
It does not care.  
It has no need for your pain.  

Water is the poet of forgetting,  
Writing its verses on the soft shores of time,  
Then dragging the sand away grain by grain  
Until no trace remains.  
It cannot love you.  
It cannot hate you.  
It only exists to move forward,  
Always forward,  
Toward an ocean that never knew your name.

We ran
From something
Unseen. We were
Two, a man and a woman  

River flowed red
He is steel. And her tears
Bullets. We are
Bayonets and gun barrels  

The earth flourished
With steel, straight statues
Of trees and undergrowth
A perennial memorial  

Buried, we were
Under the earth
Meant to last forever
Meant to simply be  

Red silence
Enveloped the world
My brothers...
Glided between the trees  

Creatures joined
Those of all kinds, prowl
Across the land
Around their brothers  

The earth split
We are the valleys. Gashes
Along the veins of the earth
Runs red like streams and fountains  

Wounds dried and flaking
Freely beasts roamed
Lands demarcated
Trampled, trodden  

We are echoes
Within the canyons. We stalk
Like spirits, like steel
Behind fervor, behind craze  

They lost
Time was forgotten
Time was reclaimed
Remade  

We do not know time
We do not sow
We do not reap
We do not see
We do not hear  

The world is never silent
But the underground is  

How would you feel
If you knew that
The world was hollow
Held up by rifles...

We are all like wildflowers. We fall to the ground as seeds, some are swept away without a chance, while others begin to germinate and sprout after some time in utter darkness, enveloped with earth for what must feel like an eternity.

We begin to form ourselves into the ideal shape under ideal conditions, and even under conditions which would more than likely do us in, by the grace of the universe and process itself.

We gather up sunlight as the manifestation of motivation and courage, and we begin to satiate our spirits with unspoken gratitude, which spills over into joy and laughter, which we commit to our subconscious memory, and we let it build us up into stronger, more beautiful versions of our truest selves.

But this inertia and energy only lasts so long, until we are buffeted by the harsh winds of unfortunate events and circumstances, until we require rejuvenation from the universe and from the very depths of our subconscious once again. There is a waiting period for this to occur, which I would call depression. When we feel like it’s not worth the effort, when we feel like giving up or not pushing ourselves to our limits, or even when we feel like just not so much as enjoying the passing moment, we must gain strength from outside of ourselves at times when we feel we do not have what it takes to keep pushing.

The beauty and magnificence of life is ultimately contagious, and when we realize that bad times breed good times, we realize that good times ultimately spill over into inevitable bad times. The Yin and Yang is a good example of this. “As above, so below, as within, so without.”-The Emerald Tablets.

When we reach our peak, our flowering stage in life, we are so beautiful and full of radiance, and everyone around us thinks so too. That’s what I mean when I say the beauty and magnificence of life are ultimately contagious, but the same can be said for negativity, doubt, hatred, self loathing, fear, pessimism, and the false idea that life is only to be enjoyed by the rich, and that there’s no hope for the average individual. These thought patterns will hold you hostage, they will break you down, and they will make you virtually unable to process any sort of joy regarding this incredible experience we call life.

The only way to break the cycle of negative thoughts, is to take a step back and practice gratitude and awe for the absolutely insane process of our evolution, and our growth as a species, our growth as wildflowers, who are strewn about the countryside basking in the sunlight, swaying in the breeze like our very emotional states often do. We are a thing of untold majesty, the true personification of all that is, and when we finally say goodbye to our oldest and closest friend, Gaia herself, the planet, the life cycle, our temporary blip in the history of mankind, we can we can hear her laughing, giggling like a young girl at the antics of a playful kitten, telling us that this life had not gone to waste, and that our memories and energy will live on, and that all of us, no matter how seemingly insignificant, have made an indescribably positive impact on the world around us, and that the world was made infinitely better because we were here. We, the wildflowers, are here to give people joy, and to see the beauty in us, and ultimately all around us.

I look up;
The mighty ships
Drift slowly hither.
They stop for a while,
Looming over the plains
Attacking the fields,
And the meadows,
And the gardens.
A beautiful attack,
Alleviating despair.
The fresh scent of the Earth
And fragrances from the new blooms
Fill the air;
It is as if this landscape
Just learned of colour.
But the ships anchor not,
For they must bring life and hope elsewhere too,
And they drift slowly thither.

Heaven casted a light on her body,
Her thin fabric slipping.
Lighten her body,
Her lover is singing.
"Enlighten her body"
She lives in a castle with a Selkie and fireflies,
Her maidens will admonish you everytime you pass by.
Now and then, she shows up in her oriel window,
Giving me a glimpse of her shedded skin.
One glance, you shed and bow too,
A tear in my mouth, tasted like shrew.
For I loved an enigma,
A paradox in this timeline.
Her unsolved charisma.
Forever vanished in that shrine.

He chase her down,
He chased her shine.
He caught her veil, He caught it just in time.
They teleported to the heaven divine,
"The Selkie is finally mine"
Selkie and her midnight lover roam around in the afterlife,
They eat picked out lilies from the clouds.
And memories that are no longer alive,
Since they are no longer alive.

Knocked down light poles,
Stuck-standing inside the road-crack
Busted pipes, roofless shelters, shapeless vehicles,
Dead air in every breath you take
Milton, Ian, Floyd, Kirk, Audrey, Bob
There’s a reason you are my exes!!

My portrait is hidden in my basement;
The azure paint,
Like skies of June,
Is flaking like the waning moon,
Revealing a monotone landscape.
The hyacinth smell,
Is usurped
By dry, withered grass.
The serpent,
Dream-like,
Slithers
Through the underbrush,
Of the tree
From which I hung
My soul.
Let me back into
Paradise lost;
A blind man searching
In a room full of girls
For his lover.
I’m searching for what
Was lost,
For the haven
We abandoned,
While the serpent
Slithers ever closer
To my
Swaying soul.

I wish I could go back
From where I came,
To taste for the first time,
To see once more,
From a ******’s eyes.
The plague is finished
With me,
And tonight
I must sign off,
And walk into
The cool
Forest.