Here the horse munches the grass
little knowing the trots of yore
for time when lays the bricks with curse
unhinges the strongest door.

Here the horse is tethered to feed
little hearing the neighs of past
for time when crumbles sows a seed
grows new order from soil of dust.

Here the horse lazes in sun
little seeing the shadow's growth
for time when ends a period's run
buries in the walls a lover's oath.

Here the horse walks in a round
little feeling the earth's spin
for time when shrinks the highest to ground
kingdoms fall in heaps of ruin.

Blocked and unfriended
blocked and unfriended
blocked and unfriended
is this truly the death
sentence we make it out
to be?

It fascinates me how pervasive
technology has become
and how a friend request
gives way to knowing
every intimate detail
about each other's lives

Congrats on that baby, by the way
Yes it looks just like the father!
(No it doesn't, it looks like an alien
because it is a newborn baby)

But when we cut the umbilical
cords that we have attached to each other
for emotional sustenance,
what are we saying?

I don't want you to know
about my life!
We aren't friends online
so you can't permanently
eavesdrop on my eventful
and much-more-exciting-than-yours life!

And you should feel bad
about that.
You're being left out.
I don't value you enough
to let you be
a bystander
an extra
in my life hoping for a little screentime.

What a creative way to hurt each other.

she tells me that she's breathing only that shame again
and that there is nothing i can do to relieve her pain again
she has walked a thousand miles in hand me down shoes
no stretch of roadside can ever quench these travelling blues

i don't know how to feel but yet i pretend to understand
what do i know of her life or this punctuating hard land
bequeathed to her from generations since come and passed
as culture, a sense of identity, a life much too innocent to last

she's reaching out, longing for her own voice to be heard
masquerading empathy i offer all these right and measured words
for with no one to answer to nor no real actions to take
i master in hollow sentiment formed from these feelings i fake

as always i seek the beauty of fragility for only my gain
i play out this butterfly's life as her delicate wings are stung by rain
briefly she flies as her life sparks and dims over fourteen days
by resurrecting my jesus my self satisfaction empowers my ways

so why is it she that carries this shame and i stand left of frame
as a spectator, a commentator, an outsider to the rules of the game
whereas she is the soul of the mythical dancer in the flame
i am the vessel devoid of heart breathing in this cold cold shame

each syllable was pronounced
unknown in galleries
the looked at the surfaced
they own errors

they put the last point wrong
more news before don't came
they left the caravan half way
they own errors

they were dehydrated for a long time
they thought it was mirage oasis
they have taken a wrong step
they own errors

each coastal differently
they thought it was hard to get easy
they disappeared in the vortex
they own errors