my words have been sought after
in long lost rituals
of tears tracking down a face
that none have ever seen before.

a stranger sits across from me
with an easy smile
and the struggles are equivalent
to eye contact

such bodies may be seen
as nothing more than an image
the riches look through
the work of the poor

my eyes search for the phantom
they cannot reach
of the equals eyes
that can and will give me needed help

i could tell you what you want to hear
but instead i want to lie
i haven’t had a spine for a very long time
but no nerves have been severed at the base of my skull
i should think just about now
but the creaking of locked doors are all that will sound

i could lie to you now
i could stand up to you now
i could have a will against you
except i am no longer sure of my capabilities
except i am so far away from consistency
except i my life is no longer available to me

when have such tendrils of terrors
had such a strong and everlasting grip?
for as i stretch there is not strain but
i feel the bruises of the past days
as they only remind me of
the places I can no longer go

the reach of the mares
horrify the ones that have no experience
no matter their years
will feel the way some fingers crunch
delicate bones may bleed strength
into those who run into the grasp of the lost

i have not thought in such a long time.
the arms of my mind have not since been feeling
such as the numbness that takes over my mind
only allowing for a lose for any of these around me
i don’t think i want to be such a black hole
hiding my misery only makes the depths
all that more eminent

i was not that sure what all the others see
but i know in my wholeness that i can only
use my own eyes for such a burdening task
they may not see my sadness,
but any and all calls for help will be veiled
sometimes thinly and sometimes
under such a thick swimming smile

the branches of hope at the back of many minds
may have been living for such a long time
that i no longer see them reaching for me
but reaching for others as i lose my will
to be able to notice their bodies
and their angles within such an effortless and unforgiving planet
their grasp will not be lost to them no matter the meaning to me

there are dead days
that seem to have lost their meaning
while forcing the world
to work around them.

there are dead days
no one seems to notice
but are always begging for attention
and everyone pretend to ignore.

there are dead days
that soak up the sun
so that the only things still living
seem to be the shadows.

there are dead days
that everyone can see
and can only decide to take pity
when they lose their life.

there are dead days
that take the whole universe with them
so that nothing can see
and everything goes deaf.

there are dead days
that wish so much to just be alive
that they take everything for themselves
just to feel less empty

but the days that are alive

they sing with the voices of angels
they burn bright with laughter of all
they carry weights to unimaginable heights
they stay among the clouds for as long as they can
they shine with love of the world
they work with ambitious vigor
they never give in to the hardships

the days that are alive
may never appreciate what they  are
but give solace to the hearts
that need them the most.

the world is covered in grey.
i don’t know what has changed.
there must have been a shift;
I’ve started to notice a rift
between what i think
and what the reality is.
thats it, I’ve lost touch
because I’ve been thinking too much.
i wish there was something to do
to infuse the sky with blue
but I’ve lost my touch.