thoughts on dying.

the world is slowly,

so slowly,

dying.

dying of life.

if a spider climbed your back,

grazed it's sticky

hands across your skin,

and chose a piece

of flesh,

one it found more juicy;

more tempting.

what would you do?

there is no,

"Oh yes Spiderman, keep going..."
because you do not feel a thing.

the world is slowly

biting you, spreading poison,

but you do not notice.

you are asleep.

you are blind.

the bites are sharp and quick,

not many,

but enough.

it is a slow death.

good evenin'.

these days,
seems like times are changin
slower than normal.
it's different,
i'm still getting used to it.

there was a time,
when i thought
everyone was innocent.
nobody had a thing to hide.

now i know better.

i've learned my lessons,
ones not taught in classrooms.
it happened the hard way.

a truth.

even in the sunlight,
you are blind.

untitled.

if i were a word of hate,
would you notice me more?

it doesn't take much wind
to move the ocean,
but how many waves
does it take to move you?

it wasn't a question of faith.
the water was salty-
full of my tears.
it would hold you up
if you found
you couldn't swim.

if you found you were suddenly
drowning,
who would be there
to pull you out?

if the albatross saw you,
he would keep flying.
there is no redemption
for you here.

the wind would try to help
you out,
but it is not
strong enough for you.
it is invisible, and so,
it is not real.

it would brush your cheek,
tell you to be safe,
but you would not hear it.

you are drowning.

drowned.

i promise.

just keep holding on.

the water will pull you out, yes,
but it will always push you back.

and i will always be
the shoreline.

i will hug you back,
and kiss the salt
from your eyelids.

until there is nothing left,
nothing but your heart.
and i will feed your heart
to the moon,
and the moon will
throw your heart
to the sky,

and you will be the stars.

so just keep holding on.

before the storm.

you once told me
i was like the sea.

that i was rough,
wild, untame-able.
but that only meant
i had a mind of my own,
or so i thought.

and then you told
me what you meant,
that it was the wind
that changed my fates.

it was the wind
who was guiding me,
changing me, moving
my currents.

you told me
i did not follow where
i wanted to go,
that my decisions were never mine.

if i manage to pull myself
out of the water,
i'll be waiting for the wind
to blow you down.

gods of death.

persephone once told me
it was warmer
living with her God of Death,
closer to the heart of the earth.

she told me
it was colder
in our world
that she regretted eating
the fruit her mother gave her.

but it was irresistible,
and so, it tied her down
once more,
until the leaves changed colours.

and then she told me,
her heart was always cold.

but her mother shook
her head, and scooped
more food onto her plate.

trees and me.

sometimes screaming is not
hard enough.
if i was the one to follow you,
take a day
in your foosteps even,
would i still see your mistakes
for what they are?

this is a lonely life,
full of words that don't
mean what they should,
what they do.

but i know what steps
not to take,
to keep my distance,
the way you never did.

because sometimes my screaming
is just not hard enough
for you to hear.