all our truths meet in secret to decide who must come out first.
soundlessly they take size of one another.
the truth of the world, the truth that exists outside of us, it is never welcomed at these meetings.
the elusive truth, the truth, the one we die never knowing, it stands shy, naked, without reason.
the garbed truth always prevails.
picture credit : The MET Greek & Roman Art.
this child was born in the wind,
free of freedom, ignorant.
bathed not in happiness, neither looking for it.
this child lives between the leaves and the skies,
silently awaiting nothing at all.
no stories to tell, no death to fear.
picture credit : tumblr
the first man to give me roses
never fell in love with me.
so i gave them back,
dry & faded.
You look like you’re going to leave me again.
You kiss fervently, deeply – you’re not here to stay.
You smile more, caress my arms, hold on to my waist, stare at me longer.
If you’ve come back to hurt me, look right at me,
do it quick, don’t give me time to look away.
Picture Credit – Boston Post, Massachusetts, October 7, 1920
This forest can bow and bend and shelter my nights
it can awaken in my dreams
not unlike the path of the Earth giving rise to the sun.
Art work – Winter (The Flood), 1660, Nicolas Poussin
i am corpse
i was born a corpse
there is nothing to be but.
The Young Virgin, 1630, Francisco de Zurbaran
there is no god so i am witness to my own follies.
you are one among a million of them,
rotting in my ear canal,
screaming for escape