Destiny Awaits

To some today’s today.

To others, today’s a destiny.

Confirmation(in the form of being)

Tell me his name

And I’ll give him your word

Though to an illusion

I can not confirm—

Within him lies many,

Within you lies more—

His name’s but of flesh and bone.

So tell me your name

And I’ll give you his word

Be it not an illusion,

Something I can confirm.

Being Yourself

People always wanted you to be yourself,

except when you did, well

they didn’t like it all that much.

01/25/2021

The Solution.

I accept

I am

The problem.

Therefore

I am

The solution.

01/21/2021 A Self Portrait

Broken Hearts

One day

When ready

I’ll tell you a story.

A story of a boy

Who never stopped running.

I’m just not ready

To break your heart.

The Freedom They Lost

The more I looked the more I noticed

people defending their freedom to speak—

when in fact it seemed and showed so clearly—

from their trembling hands to their worried eyes—

that they had given up their freedom to think for themselves—

and became defenseless, bold, and unexplainably proud—

having lost their voice long before it could ever be taken.

Self Portrait in Long Island NY Apartment

Solace’s Depths

People might never understand

sincere isolation or solace’s depths

until they find themselves

most comfortably within

their own weightless bounds of solitude.

A Tale of Two Cities—Broken from Birth

People were always

Dying to get in, or

Dying to get out.

Nobody ever wanted

To be where they were—

And it was always that way—

It was A Tale of Two Cities.

Cruel and hostile, broken

From birth—The bread

When shared, had long since spoiled.

So left were the people’s

Disgruntled denial, who’d sacrifice

Even their own mothers love—for lies—

Because, the truth was tough

and too hard to swallow.

And it was never their fault.

But neither was it His.

My very American illusion of happiness

Nothing feels good tonight.

Nothing sits well.

Nothing but myself and beer

to drown away my very American illusion

of happiness—my dear, I’m not sorry.

Please understand.

Our Gestation Period

When I found her like

a set of lost keys,

it was a mystery even to her

where she’d been hiding

or who left her there—but

I knew that look, as I’d worn once—

and it wasn’t me anymore.

So I let her sleep.

And I let her eat.

Then after her strength regained,

I walked her to the wood,

and watched her twirl with the wind—

of all that remained,

and all she’d forgotten—

like a dizzy spell I’d soon be too.