calling out, hoping to reach some sort of canal
hoping to make sense to me
but i'm not making out the syllables anymore
maybe i'm too far ahead to reach back and
bring the past to my present.
invincible
the reality of death is never
as real as when it is staring you in the face
its hollow eyes piercing all your paradigms
its vapid mouth breathing stench in your nostrils and
you can't even speak
its shrill scream piercing the night and
making the very hairs of your body stand straight
death is a monster that consumes
the jock
the joker
the mom
the dad
the best friend
the prom queen
the CEO
it tickles your ears in the symphony of this life
it entices you, tells you its more beautiful than what you think
but the reality of it all is that
death is nothing more than our eventual fate.
we are not invincible.
we are never invincible.
the artist's lament
i catch my moods in pans as the rain pitter
patters down and swirls into my sentiments.
for a heart to be loved it must be recognized.
invisibility is only a gift in the movies.
nowhere in history can you find
an invisible man who was recognized
for although they count it as strength
it is their ever consuming weakness.
and my sentiments are being stuffed in my heart
so deep i think the bottom might fall out and
spill all over my insides. a beautiful tragedy.
for i am void and find no location to express
the things i think that could rattle the
foundations of my own thoughts.
where art and humanity collide
finds a girl who is deeply involved in her mind
someone who can't pretend like the tempest
is non existent, for it is altogether consumption
i must find a way to express these longings
before i explode into a million pieces
and in my desperation to be something more,
start using each piece for another clever catch phrase
there has to be a way i can get this out
to find the freedom that i seek inside my mind
it isn't a bondage, it's volunteer captivity
but still, there is a price to be paid
my heart must be worn inside out.
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