Entities of Reality stalk haunt humankind
Teasing unmercifully promising in person
A plain brown package; The Mind’s Eye;  Pandora’s Box.
Desire disguised as a need, want, or a trophy.
Consciousness trying to escape the emptiness.
It doesn’t matter;  How can we rise above, transcend it?

It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to the same place someday.
It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to Heaven anyway.

The tears won’t stop?  Call them Tears of Joy;  Gratitude.
Make promises to get what you want, then wait to see.
Pretend to be Happy;  Joyful;  Hide the Pain.
Make jokes!  Laugh your way through the heartache!  Look happy!
Want it?  Take it!  Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth!
Feeling guilty about it is unproductive.
Saving Grace;  Just Passing Thru;  Get Out of Jail Free!
It doesn’t matter;  Unconditional Forgiveness.

It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to the same place someday.
It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to Heaven anyway.

Despair, Distress, Hopelessness;  An Undeserved Mess!
What’s in it for You?  Recognition?  Salvation?
Generosity;  Curiosity;  Doesn’t Pay!
Return it!  Get a Refund!  Just use it, don’t buy!
Redemption; Reconciliation; Justified;
It doesn’t matter;  Give it back: Return To Sender

It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to the same place someday.
It doesn’t matter;  We’re all going to Heaven anyway.

baggy shirts and folded sleeves
holding hands and acid washed jeans
from clean to stained clothing
we watched yesterday's crooked teeth
hide behind grown smiles from each other's lips, and for once, our futures seemed promising
our skin was pure yet our insides were battered
but bandages and plaster cast arms were just shells and they never mattered
we are both our own places
it's our choice where we choose to stand
and our faces are merely masks and disposable skin and emotions
we let our hearts do the talking, the questioning and the loving
this is what we were made for
not to be thrown around and ripped of our own exterior, but to be planted on the ground with our heads facing the clouds
and our wrists stretching out along with our fingers, grabbing all the opportunities and experiences

we are not carousels of repetition
we are layers of unwritten episodes
we are human beings

n.j.