Though we

Are each a separate

letter,

we are all a unified

word,

a single

Universal utterance

merged within

the voice of the infinite…

Some people

Want to live so bad

They die in the process…

A smile hurled over a

corporate conglomeration

and you have stopped

living before any teeth

can be shown…

Safely saving in

safety and it’s

murder on the soul

Securing an illusion

over a vital withering

concept

and…

murder on the soul

an unshed tear

Persistently pretending,

Relcacitrant actors

driven to survive

obliterating the most vital

things,

while everything worthwhile

dies…

a glance away

A smile restricted

A word unsaid

Another day,

Another lost

opportunity…

Beautiful unswaying nature

I saw nature at its pinnaculous beauty

in a landscape of unmoved swaying men

amidst busy trees seemingly dancing

atop stop lights and buttered buildings

where everything stenched like nothingness

a pungency of redundant budgings

A dream softingly sound asleep

to the brink of death

A breath held tightly

on a wire,

on a tight rope

threaded with golden screams

Nature has reverted

to the unborn

to the dead

and left all

movement to the corpses

Oh, will we ever dance again?

or at the least,

sway with closed eyes

subjectively spared

To a silicone clock?

pondering pretty presumptions

under a shade of

half open eyelids

the moon is kept hidden

by an envious sun

the opaqueness of

a held breath

where battles of

man and life are won

crushing celestial cement

over a smoldering

ray of logic

lazily laying sideways

by omissions

what is the hope of denigration?

such questions are

the sedatives of our future…

living is in the silence

in the breakage and pauses

of action

everything beautifully orchestrated

has not been created

but meticulously etched away

at what always was

by omission,

by slumber,

by numbness…

and the most exceptional rarities

are sculpted

by deep and solemn hurt

A solemness that dares to halt…

life is not a flow

but an eternal stagger

of chaos and quietude.

it’s hard to change

and we’d rather remain

the same no matter

the urgency,

but change is inevitable

and almost always

arrives unexpectedly

as quiet and haunting

as the 3AM air

taking us away

from the mundane,

from every nonsensical,

binding distraction

and from the best and worst

of it all,

pain…