the walls are quiet tonight
left untreated, symptoms seem to mingle
funny how myopia and I don’t give a sh*t, get along
photos placed without design, move themselves
this one there, that one here
time-lines
separated by quarter inch frames
resist temptation and hold a thread of life
in commonalities
we all go places and do things
we all don’t recover
so I found myself
sitting on the green carpet of my future last stand
prepaid by luminaries long gone, remembering
that was a day, that should have been the day,
to end all days
the city air held death and the lies were creeping out
and now I see it clearer, for you
many miles away, carefully discovering atrocities
hand picked for your viewing displeasure
sad lines drawn in colored sands
declaring a town once Loved by all, now
the sight of cannibalistic mobs
as the truth, still carefully obscured,
coagulated in poisoned puddles and human hatred
that was a day, framed by another day
in black granite hills, where a heart I hardly knew
grasped at shear edges of hardened Earth
allowing the tiniest of rivers to melt across her
revealing a heart a had to know, and now I know
I looked at the walls, quietly
and rearranged two photos, important now
discovering the importance of placement
and timing in life
and how beautiful the world can be, no
how beautiful it is every single day
if you tilt your head just so
and find tomorrow
hiding in yesterday’s frames
S6 L5…
revealing a heart (I) had to know, and now I know
beautiful. definetly a poem.
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