Have Heart

There's detoxification in the initiation,
You're cold and cold you'll stay.
What's to do with winter smiles?
Improve your composure by running away.

The glorification you can't fathom,
Stuck in the cement with buried treasure,
Tears in your eyes which is a surprise,
Your apathy is impossible to measure.

I don't believe in ghosts or children,
When do the dead finally become free?
When do the babies become intoxicated?
I don't believe any good can come from me.

The shore line has corrupted my mind.
Forever changing, but staying the same.
The sands honesty battles the waves away,
Through thousands of years it's remained.

You're so cynical, why don't you see?
No beauty could have come from coal,
You're a waste of paint, of company.
This art couldn't save your soul.

Dear Acceptance

There's the constructed and the reconstructed, the buildings that have gone through the same processes time and time again to make things work, or the words that have been changed, (im)perfected and debated over. There are the hearts made of plastic that choke the turtles in the sea, there are the times where you insisted that there's no life in a tree but a forest has the capacity to stop you from changing from slave to free. You've got your capitalism and your ideologies, I've been sleeping in playgrounds and flying with swings. A bird had blotted out the moon, it shone there through its wings. There's significance and soul in the most trivial things.

What's the definition of insignificance? Whether the weather is accurate or not, the differentiation between lines and dots: it's a learning experience that most have forgot. You can be an optimist on opium or a pessimistic person, but the significance still lies there. You could be sleeping or leaving or splitting some old grey hairs but it's still a reflection on your life (whatever that word means). I'd prefer to write a commentary than be held between two teams because they make it seem so straight forward, one kicks one to their knees. But that's not something to live by: within the set of morals you have from your parents, the bible, or your brothels; you have to do as you please.

You Helped to Pass the Time

I am unsure where to start, with your words wrapped around my knees, pulling at my dress so slightly, but so eager to please. Maybe it’s the missing substance, or the way you used to be, with the nervous glances and shaking hands; a little less than me. But a knife dropped and in its fall took the innocence of the Lord. I could not blame you for your actions, so don’t blame me for being born.

Perhaps it was the initiation when they paved the streets all wrong. Or was it that blue bird in the street, singing that melancholy song? Things like this, they just don’t work. You’re the night and I’m the day. For short times we can exist together but the rest cannot stay, their lives live in mirrors; fighting to keep the world true. Forgive my envy and apathy for not letting me get close to you.

Something light just struck the street between the blue falling feathers and the disorganization of feet. It made me step back and the world seemed split in two. I had lost, regained, and lost some more, now I’m left with just the hope of you.

But it's surprising how little I miss you. It's only at night between cocktail smiles when I think of your laugh. I've been sleeping in playgrounds between eerie grey flowers, throwing myself through the days and sweating every night. Four pages down and another ninety to go, you promised me a story about a boy who never gets attached. It turned into a biography. There were flowers on every page and a lullaby as an epilogue.

"Sweet, sweet air why don't you sing? Why don't you trust the life that you can bring? You've been through mountains and crossed sacred cemeteries; if you'd trace your fingers through my hair I'll keep it between you and me."