Ruins

Crown of boulders
On your head
You’re dead inside

Your neck
A pillar hollowed dry
Where your feelings tried

To claw their way out
Force open your maw
That has petrified

Streams of tears
Long as interstates
Mark you

Like maps
Tattered in darkest
Gloveboxes

You loss is mine
You’ve lost your shine
And won’t again

All beauty is in ruins
And if you look
With naked eyes

The faint cracks detail
ancient struggle
A will forsaken

An ignored landscape
Suffocation
And ultimately

Resignation

These days
You wouldn’t mind
Some lava flows
A retweet
Or a birthday card

But it’s to hard with
All those boulders

On your crown

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Published in: on May 10, 2017 at 11:38 pm  Leave a Comment  
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The Future

In a few minutes

we will have wasted a few more

looking at the black spot

just beyond the headlights,

waiting for things

to come into view,

waiting for good things to come,

waiting for the future to arrive

at gate B42

and greet it with hugs

as if it will be different

than the last time we waited

for something to arrive,

forgetting once we can see it,

we are bored.

In a few minutes

we will do things

that have been done before

feel feelings

that have been felt before,

but with different objects around us.

We will charge forward

holding remnants of familiarity,

answering to routine

and perhaps foreign traffic

coming in, and talk about it

as if we know what it is

before it arrives;

as if we are sudden clairvoyants

without an ego-biased agenda.

In a few minutes

we will realize that all

of anything coming or went

may be a another version

of something

that has happened before

and the only true distinction is

our individual

human

experience…

which is now.

Published in: on December 12, 2014 at 1:43 am  Comments (1)  
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