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.