The little girl in the pool next door
is shouting, “Leave my brother alone.”
Everyone knows it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity,
but we’re choking on all this light.
Love is a subject
glorified by apparitions
by lengthly ghosts passer-bye’s
good-bye hosts. Love was not
Cohen’s victory march, rather
On the slow rise
your words are as
knives or butterflies.
Still sleeping in a
daydream, a walk-about
Trail of replicas to my
If I dared write
what’s in my heart,
what’s on my mind,
what drives me on,
I’d attract ants,
and bring bees
to the smell...
It never was like this before,
It used to be a ink black tsunami,
That swallowed and covered all,
But it was before I actually got a chance,
To live as myself a little bit,
To grow as a human being,
And see this thing called life,
That changed it all.
Now, in heart, mind, and soul,
There is an unrelenting war being fought,
Both sides wanting diferent things,
One wanting nothing more,
Than to see this mysterious thing known as life,
To see all wonders in this world,
To fully experience this thing concept of humanity,
To live with all aspects of the soul.
But there is the opposing faction,
Who still supports the ink black disaster,
And vies for destruction,
Seeing and sewing only sin and corruption,
But only as means to an end,
For one so tainted by all it’s methods will be willing,
To submit to it’s true goal,
This faction wants nothing more than to die.
It’s unrelenting, this war in me,
It expends all my energy,
All I can do is try to see,
If I can help that light in me,
And I can usually give them artillery,
But I’ve got to pick it up from the pharmacy,
But sadly, it never gives a victory.