One man alone...emerges
seeking to claim His own

Barely, yes
but still breathing

Desolations disgrace
is what has been shown

Clawing up from where
crushingly abandoned

Sure to escape
the horror the man
He has known

Describe Him
despicable rejected
Quite altogether forlorn
Surely far lower
than hopeless

Still advancing steadily on

There is not one
that He can call out to
Neither friend
nor family or home

Ignoring
the laughter of cynics
Oblivious
to the jeering of scorn

The continuous
critical whispers
only lengthen the sojourn He is upon

But still through
the music of His conscious
His soul cries
a sad quiet groan
The total
incalculable sorrow
of all the man He has borne

Finding
yet always pursuing
Searching for all
His destiny has sworn

One man alone......emerges
Seeking....... and sure
to reclaim His Own.

-R.

(06)
TX

I don’t know how love works.

But I know I left you on a Sunday after spending six months trying to shove the words that escaped me into the dozens of envelopes that you had sent over the last six years.

I don’t know how loves works but I know that Christmas Eve, when you held me and I cried, it was because I was already losing track of your world map hands as you navigated the clams in the soup your brother made.

I don’t know how love works, but I know that over spring break, i bought flowers i knew you wouldn’t even like to say I’m sorry, even though I knew I was just trying to make things better temporarily until I got the courage to say goodbye.

I don’t know how love works, but I know that when you force feed yourself a certain amount of affection, your body starts to reject it. You can only fill up so much artificial substitute for love, like cotton candy filling up my head and grape flavoring spilling out of my mouth all over your bedsheets like the time i was drunk and spilled hot chocolate with marshmallows and you yelled at me like they would never be clean again.

I can’t love a terrarium. I get too frustrated with things I can’t touch. I can’t fill up any more phone calls with rainstorms and giving up.

is there a word for the way it feels to cry in front of the Water Lilies in the museum?

is there a word for when your teeth taste like blood from getting punched in the heart?

is there a word for the moment when you say the last words you ever wanted to say to the boy?

there should be.

maybe then I could understand what it takes to tell someone that you hope they wake up feeling alone.

Who I’ve become is someone I respect.