hurtful in texture but not to touch

because imagination is the foreplay of experience.

i think therefore i am,

and i also trust all i can see,

and believe only what i can predict

all it means is that i’m embarrassed when alone

not guilty.

fresh sashes over empty faces,

both struggling;

patience and keep worthless once a martyr is announced value.

seduced by the supple taste abreast

i wander the waning wide-open.

 

 

 

Convince others that one sees the world exactly as it is, rotten and unreedemed, and understands that one will change nothing of it not even our aging bodies.
Yet believe in the secrecy of ones soul that one can improve the world, even the neighbor of stage who sneers and cackles when she sees you.
Make her beautiful like politics, noble like justice, and generous like life. All turn in circle, so and how little it matters if she is vicious, if one is vicious, if the world is old, because all turn and stop not. Otherwise it’s death, the death people loathe or welcome, which despite everything never misses its secret rendez vous and lurks in silence, prompt to gather someone, anyone in its arms at the least excessive sign. The anguish of being no more is banal, one wears it on the forehead like an invisible tag:”will die one day”, and engraved in the feisty spirit:”as late as possible.”
Nothing is to be done, one is born mortal. Nevertheless, everyone precipitates ones life differently. Some people save and manage life like the budget of a country with an imminent crisis, others consume life intensely and fast as if they have only few minutes left. Most people, however, either resort not to think about it or emulate someone else life.
Still none of it matters, life holds everyone in the palm of her hand, and magnanimously question ones existence. She tickles and throws ones vulnerability in the face by simply asking: “who are you?”, and “what are you doing here on earth?”

one.
giving you up
like ignoring
that itch on my leg

i know it’ll pass
if i just

wait.

but you’re so soft
cooling my sweat
slowing my heart
easing me to sleep every night

and the worst part?
i can justify you

two.
dont forget when you almost
died
and i was there to pull you out

remember how i held you
and watched over you as you cried

do i lose
points for bringing it up

why do you fear salvation?

On the bottom step
A lone pine cone sadly sits–
Grow me a tree.