8 thoughts

These men are cunning not alone with words

and it is only the simple man who can ever truly say I love you

These men look to the starless sky and cast their imagery; life bears no beauty like the empty void

crushing life between their palms rolling it between their fingers

their eyes don’t weep for what they’ve lost but for what they cannot find

This is no pleasure nor remedy, This is Breathing This is Beating This is Consuming This is, and for so long as it is, so are we.

we’ll whisper into midnight to hear our thoughts above the pounding of our feet

And this poem will be forgotten before my hand can touch the page.