Home » Posts tagged 'soul' (Page 3)
Perhaps we take photographs
and selfies of ourselves
in the event that someone might care,
in the event that someone we haven’t spoken to
in a long, long while, might see us there,
and just for a second consider the thought:
that everything’s quite alright.
Or, perhaps we do these things
in order to remind ourselves we’re alright,
even when we’re anything but.
We went from public displays of affection
Straight to public displays of everything
Now leaving nothing to the imagination
Embracing it all, then apologizing for it after.
It’s like some convoluted social stream of consciousness
That forms a figure eight of disingenuous pandering
One which tastes to a choir of social unrest
Like change, its value null, when in reality it’s all just
As sad and dull as high school sex.
Don’t know how long I’ll be back,
but I am now. It’s like
waking in a movie theatre
while the credits roll and suddenly
everything and nothing’s changed.
You don’t know what everyone else saw
but you’ll take their word for it.
And with arms akimbo they just watch
you pocket your hands and head home.
So if I don’t see you today, then tomorrow
perhaps we’ll go swimming? And maybe
for just a while we can pretend
that I never left us in the first place,
and that this was all a dream, and that
starting over didn’t have to mean the end.
To some today’s today.
To others, today’s a destiny.
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.
I’ve said so many poor things
From a poor soul
Who yearns forgiveness
From no one other than…
Himself—
People always wanted you to be yourself,
except when you did, well
they didn’t like it all that much.
What I’ve learned over time
Through my own self sacrifice
Is simple, and it’s this:
Admitting when to say no
is just as important as
knowing when to say yes.
People might never understand
sincere isolation or solace’s depths
until they find themselves
most comfortably within
their own weightless bounds of solitude.
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.
Words Of An Average White Male 