Humans are filthy.
Well some are at least.
The monsters are.
The ones who thrive in
Others' suffering.
In my own suffering.
And monsters and man
Live hand in hand
Because we're identical.
They saunter among us
In the guise of human skin,
Blending their words
To sound like ours,
Keeping their thoughts shielded
From escape
Until the right moment.
Monsters and men
Live hand in hand because
Humans are monsters.
And if we could just read minds,
We could tell them apart.
But then I think
What if I'm
One
Of
The
Monsters?

strong spirits

welcoming in nature-

powerful in instinct-

trying to find a moral compass-

one that they can believe in,

with all of their ****** hearts

searching for complete harmony

in a static world, charged by the sun.

their own saturated, sturdy bodies

learning to not know-

experiencing the now-

accepting that simplicity is beautiful-

realizing that no life has to be so complex.

—

no life needs to have so many thumbtacks

stuck in its cork board,

hanging on its bedroom wall-

only to be stared at by its owner

to distract from the present-

to keep sentimentality afloat-

to compare and contrast;

to remind a tired soul

of better moments and feelings

in its personal history.

but when those tiny memoirs

are reminisced upon,

the soul becomes vulnerable-

susceptible to reminding itself

of memories it does not want

to have as its own.

memories most likely forgotten-

blocked, and left somewhere

in the owner’s brain-

lost, due to lack of importance-

deterred from its conscious-

pushed back into its energy’s

open life storage, unconsciousness.

—

those memories like sharp tacks,

metal tips, dropped and unseen-

abandoned in a grey **** carpet-

left there so many months ago-

waiting for their owner

to decide their fate-

to either lay its bare foot

upon their thin metal,

creating a river of crimson-

so they may be finished with

their metaphorical life-

thrown in the trash can-

or they could taste the sweetness

of not being crushed-

of having one more day

to become as best as they can be-

to enjoy the soft, scraggily **** carpet-

to be unwanted, unfounded-

to aide in the growth of the now-

by refusing to resurface.

those memories, remembered or not-

are locked behind the purple indents

above the owner’s cheekbones-

below its red, puffy eyes-

violet crescents-

slowly caused by sleeplessness

and lack of nutrition.

—

if the past was not meant

to be consistently remembered,

why does humanity constantly try

to decode the future?

recorded history is meant so

living beings will not

repeat previous mistakes-

the human race is a cycle-

history will repeat itself-

mistakes and all-

the future is completely unknown.

predictions are never certain-

why spend the life one was given

trying to figure out why humanity

exists the way it does-

when in actuality, the researcher

is missing out on humanity as it is.

why try to figure out what happens

when someone’s energy is depleted-

when a mind is laid to rest, dead.

while searching, one is losing out

on actually being alive-

no one knows exactly

what happens when mortals die-

humans have been searching

ever since they developed cognizant

abilities, conscious minds…

the future will happen eventually-

people will experience it when it is time-

it is wasteful to spend one’s life

always looking for the answer-

instead of celebrating, and exploring

the earth that has given humanity

endless opportunities to love.

—

ghosts of creative minds

walking amongst the living-

ghosts encased in flesh

with no memory of their past lives-

their auras radiating-

saturated with ambition and kindness

following different dreams-

floating toward their goals

in a similar manner,

all with the same amount

of vigor and curiosity-

young (old) spirits;

hoping for their fellow

outspoken, anxious specters

to listen, and notice their potential-

to make their words understood-

to show their many points of view-

to let go of their pasts-

to stop worrying about the future-

to live in the present.

intelligent, brightly glowing entities-

the ones with flowing energies,

pigmented with color-

the ones striving for positivity;

the ones who really wish

for just one simple thing-

only for their peers

to consider clarity

as a degree or two on their own,

individual moral compasses.

to love this beautiful world

with no bias, with equality,

with excitement, and with

virtuous appreciation of life

as a common mystery-

one that would end a lot better

if it was left unsolved.

There was a stage in my life
When I accepted what was told me
Thoughts etched, the acid leaving indelible patterns
Currents and tides of being
That invited loyalty

Tastes of doubt's power
left me dispossessed – finding new songs,
vainly pressing my own.
Tramping not so slow
warned - unheeding.

Unsensing to the shivering fault
I’m left to wonder
which rocks on the beach
found their smoothness the right way
and which did it all wrong?

Would you love me with blue-stained hands,
in the bleary hours of sand-crusted haste?
Would you love me in oversized sweatshirts and sweaty hairbands,
when I have ink on my fingers and creams on my face?

Would you love me barefoot in splotchy grass,
after my ankles have turned brown and green?
Would you love me when I'm crass and when I'm slacking off in class,
or doodling in the corner of a notebook in a dream?

Would you love me anyway
and, if it's not too much trouble,
would you love me every way?

Would you love me as much in a push-up bra
with red-stained lips and curled (combed) hair,
when I love with all the love I have
in the hope of getting some loving back?

Love me fierce and love me gentle;
Love me till all my love is gone.
hold me close till I am warm.

To trying and failing and trying again
because hope springs eternal
in our foolish hearts.

I know you're not mine to have
I know you were never mine to have
But your eyes invite me
Your moves tempt me
When you glance, I wonder if you can hear my fervour
When you stand beside me I remind myself to breathe
my brain gives up on its rectitude
The closer you come the more my thoughts lure, I'm merry
my morality leaves as it blames my desire
I blame it on your alluring scent
you have to shut it, screams by brain
you're just human, consoles my heart
Again before I know it, I'm yet another covetous being