I will not love for fear of losing,
And if a fondness should creep through,
Like ivy I’ll cut it back.

**** it hurts.
Falling out of love.
You wouldn't think it would.

My everything.
My heart.
My future.
So I thought.
So they say,
It's okay.
Still falling out of love,
it stings and burns.

My stomach is a pit of snakes,
Tied in impossible knots,
The guilt that's filled inside of me,
Is enough to eat me raw.

Falling in love is easy,
It's lovely, wouldn't you say?
It's not wondering what went wrong,
Or how we became some tragedy,
We were the one's that were going to make it,
We thought we knew everything.

**** it still hurts
Someday I'll be happy,
A piece of who I used to be,
But a broken heart needs time to heal
Time to be okay.

Muffed myths mystically mediocre
might make muzzled men mighty mad

Society is currently a haze.

Trying to cover the polluted air and water.
It has made it seem alright to exclude yourself from the chemical slaughter.
  Can you not hear the suffering. Because  do. I hear it in the buzzing of cars from my bedroom window.
I hear it in the emptiness of my neighborhood park with swings swaying low.

   I would not wish it upon anyone to live in the blissful seclusion.
I am sorry to burst your bubble, to break your illusion.
The world is dying as society is hiding that you could make an impact.
Do not be blinded by its technological act.

   Is it just me who wants to feel?
It cannot be just me who wants this world to heal.
I crave to truly experience my surroundings,
while others just want to move on and I find it confounding.

   Is your eyesight impaired?
How is your anger not flared.
The world is dying right before you.
Reaching for your help, yes it’s true.
Is it that your heart’s not open to beauty that cannot be painted.
For our dear world is in the midst of being tainted.
And yet you sit with phone in hand enshrouded in the smoke of cigarettes’ long draws.
Try to look beyond those four walls.

You can take action against the polluting of our earth.
Because it is not mine or yours.
It's the birds in the trees earth, it is the grass moved by the breezes earth. It is not our job to poison.
So I understand your avoidance,
I do.
But if I can change so can you.

I want to be fueled by feelings.
By my fear of what is to come.

For I fear a static presence an unchanged future. Society tells me to forget it. That it is not my problem to deal with.
Oh how it is wrong,
this is my problem and it's your problem and it's his and it's hers.
And it's all of the above.
It is all of our problems But it is not just that.
It is also our privileges.
Our privilege to walk amongst nature- to have the power to impact such a glorious creation.
To be it's very salvation.

Society can tell you many things, but it is your choice to open your eyes this.
To all of this.

Gangling ghosts cause trouble inside
this meaty microwave--
I am on these streets and don't know
how I got here.
I'm carrying 2% milk, in my left hand,
and a carton of extra-large eggs in my right--
I drop the jug and it bursts. I joke about how
I still have 2%, but no one laughs because
no one has ever really been around to hear me.
So, I'm scrambling eggs and wishing I had that
milk because who doesn't like voluminous eggs.
I stop whisking and ask who is there.
Why am I afraid of you, Why am I afraid of you
the raw scrambled eggs on the floor, touched by
ceramic seashells.
And it's you.
You are the Lord, a naked lover, that absence
caused by my auto-pilot parents
Forever,
right here.

I gave them all of my faith
because the alternative
was death.

I was afraid of God because
he loved me and I was his
- his imperfect child, in need
of divine intervention.

Did he watch
when stress caused
my hair fall out,
gathering on the drain,
by my eighteen year-old
feet?

I have been spiritually mugged;
giving up my faith to a
weaponized religion, created by
men, who wish to enslave.