Write

Eat

Fuck

Sleep

Laugh

Give

Remember

Bleed

It's a tragedy that phone cameras cannot capture the beauty of the night sky, isn't it? I personally think it's because some things are too beautiful for photographs, and they are only meant to hold a special place deep within our hearts. In a world where proof is often needed to believe the tales ordinary people tell, what a photograph does not capture becomes a myth to everyone except you, the bearer of its truth. So when I scroll through my phone's gallery or search my room's cabinets wanting to come across a picture of us enjoying each other's company, but find nothing, I choose not to believe the love we once felt is lost; rather, we were simply too beautiful for photographs.

Raindrops cover me

Damp reminders of my sin

And what I want

God’s anger embodied

Freezing and seemingly unending

I walk past their house again

Peering in the rain streaked picture window

His wife lies on the lavish green couch

She flips through her novel like an aristocrat

Unaware of any betrayal

We are both old fools

"On the first day the Sky Dog swam in blackness all complete with the empty shape of the All Day Forever Blue and a dark punk edge piercing on the face of the void. The shadow of the Sky Dog rippled over the blue, and the soul of the first void atom split into a billion dollars, scattering across the face of the Great Nothing like Filaments of Gold. On the other end the glowing embers of creation rained down on a green place of virgin cotton, the ground a throbbing pregnancy of ore – a place without meaning or form. Unto the men that grew from the soil of the Mint Planet fell the gold dust – the spark of the idea of Possession Beyond Means. The shadow of the Sky Dog gravitated onwards, pulsing through the black and blue and finding this earth yet unmade. And the men of the earth quivered in His shadow, and knelt unto Him and raised their voices in prayer, for the men of this world were afraid. And so the Sky Dog said unto them, go forth and consume the world, for I bless it for you and all mankind, and The Scent of the Bill was given unto them to ripen their lungs to the Great Greed Endeavour, for this was to be their purpose. And mankind went forth with the vision, the eternity planted between their eyes like a third desire, and ripped once the ore from the earth…”

World of greed, keep on turning.

Don't worry about my tears.

Pay no mind to our tragic yearning

Or our cries that no one ever hears.

World of greed, keep your material wealth.

It can't buy me a better life.

Put your consolation back on the shelf.

We were born to fight.

World of greed, turn your back

Just like you always do.

Another day will fade to black,

And I'll still make it through.

World of greed, keep on turning.

Your promises lie in my clenched fists.

My dreams are all broken, and my future is burning,

And hope does not exist.

Though I am old

Fuddled and grumpy

My mind is versatile

Compressed and elastic

Though I am proud

Haughty and salty

My mouth is cold

Dormant and active

Though I have lost

Challenges and battles

My will is strong

Indomitable and stoic

Though I am broke

Vagrant and hungry

My eyes are fixed

Ever faithful and grateful

Though I am weak

Frustrated and helpless

My smile is rich

Hopeful and endless

Though I am...

Though I...

Though I am nothing

God makes me something

I know

it is right

to be selfless. 

The hero

in the story,

soldier who takes the 

bullet 

that might have killed her.

It's common knowledge.

But knowledge 

never draws first

in a duel with instinct. 

Noise.

Screams.  Shattering glass.  A fist being thrown into a wall.

Two opposing parents.  

A child sitting silently in their room, trying to drown out the sound of the battle raging on in the kitchen.

A standstill--both sides quiet as they stare one another down, planning their next move.

Both want to triumph, but neither willing to release the kill-shot.

They both know there is no real victory. . .

Another trivial bullet will start the fire-storm tomorrow.

They just watch for a moment, assessing one another, neither fully aware of the third party.

The father wondering why it is so important to be right.

The mother wondering how long it has been since she felt something.

The child wondering when it became so inessential to love.

All three despise the situation, but none are willing to give ground.

Knowing there is not enough happiness in the broken house for all of them, they resolve to steal one another's.

And all they can do is take, and take, and take. . .

It's not just 

that i must have a lot,

truth to tell.

Because

quite frankly

I must have yours as well.

My affliction:

An everything addiction.