the truly sorry find their home in houses built with bricks of guilt,
and sometimes they themsleves are the architects.
have you ever passed through these doors?
the mortar runs slow, the concrete settles, be careful not to let this foundation harden.
what we believe is discovered and not chosen.
"only do, there is no try."
i find beauty in the rising suns where heaven and earth become one,
where still waters become as mirrors
inspiring introspection and slowing pulses.
i find beauty in rolling fields where lonely dogs salvage bones
and maybe a friend.
the beauty in pain.
the beauty in nonsense.
1 + 1 = 3
what is real about the real world?
i find only facts constructed from remnants of desolation with fear as their inspiration.
i live guided by silent sounds telling me i'll be okay.
the living dead come to me at night with two intentions,
one to seek the other to destroy.
i see their guarded duality and i am compelled to reach out my hand
when it's returned to me
i find only a bloody stump with thier teeth clinging to my sacrifice.
i am a mirror and i am lonely.
will they return?
hopefully in time.
when they do i'll greet them the same as before
and know what was lost
will be returned to me.
including the love of my life, a human sacrifice, and my soul.
mummified in my own fear, with haste i begin in the unraveling.
i find i can only go so far.
stabbing knives draw lines in the sand daring me to cross,
i find i'm too weak.
you have ears to hear, are you listening?
jumping the gun where no bullet is found,
rumors fester into facts.
undisturbed i run to meet you halfway
find me where i am."
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