hollowed eyes that stake claim into your being.
a coat rack hangs a scarf that sways in tatters.
white spider lilies spreads itself into the room.
smatterings of this and that and what nots
have a go and the raw meat that sits on the counter
festers as flies fill the vastness. this is a hole. a box.
it is his coffin.
we're fascinated by stories, of life beyond our own and within us and the things we yearn for and the things we're repulsed by. love and hate and the wars we create to justify the cruelties but most of all, we're fascinated by the wonder that is life, how we came to be and why. answers we seek but can never quite grasp and sometimes that's okay because the fun resides in the not knowing.
logic and forethought,
intrusive blindness quells
the light and with it
comes daybreak that swells
and gorges until it ripples
out there, far far away
between the lines that
blur the conscious and
the person and the
identities you construct
to appease... who;
you, no one, everyone.
that sinking dread that fills the calm
the space around you tightens and in
you breathe the miasma that fills your
lungs and hardens and darkens like a
miner's; there's nothing there only
your thoughts and the possibilities of
a mind unbound by insanity.
you can't claim to be pro-life when all you ever do is offer thoughts and prayers when children are being murdered in schools. standing idly by when you have the ability to do something; you rapacious, cravenness monsters. democracy is dead when the leaders we elect chooses to whore themselves to make a profit over lives.
No. There's enough trash in space as it is without us exacerbating the issue. And even if we did, it wouldn't solve our trash problem; we'd just be displacing it elsewhere. We need to produce less trash if we want to continue living on this planet. We have finite resources and finite space here on Earth; we need to figure out a way to live more sustainably and yes, it'll be hard, but sometimes you just have to put on your big boy pants and get to work.
I find god to be more cruel than Satan; for an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent being god sure overlooks an abundance of violence and suffering. At least, Satan is honest about who and what he is.
flattened cartons and dented cardboard boxes line up the walls; piles of clothes and old newspaper clippings litter the floor, but in this room, devoid of life, echoes what once was; only the things left behind by a person who is forever forgotten to the world. they left without a sound; the emptiness fills and chokes the tightness of the room as flies gather around the closed windows; buzzing, incessant. where connection is lost, emptiness is abundant.
Friendship can manifest from what initially started off as attraction; intention is what's important. Some can handle it and others can't and need to move on, but if their company offers you a sense of pleasure and fulfillment, stay, just be honest with yourself and with them. Friendship shouldn't be defined by gender, but a mutual sense of understanding and connection; sometimes it gets complicated by attraction, but when you allow yourself to feel your emotions and process all the messy and tangledness that is relationships I don't see why men and women can't be friends; just be honest and communicate and respect their boundaries and their wishes; no means no so stop looking for hidden meanings that simply aren't there.
blistered skin, charred and angry;
peel the layer away to reveal
smooth redness, like a jewel in the dirt.
umami sweetness overflows,
it's salsa time.