- Books, Literature, and Writing
How dare I defy you? How dare there be fight in me?
Kicking my chin up, sharp, again and again.
My head snaps back like the tree branches above me.
I take another hit, three, and four…
Blood stains your pristine image, your ideal self, even the extensions of yourself
Your expensive boot kicks, marks my face, my neck.
You would do anything to collapse my throat, the words that haunt you.
I try to connect you to what you are doing…
My words float like gentle wisps above your charred halo
Disconnect…In your mirror you look beautiful.
Tomorrow you’ll wake up and imagine you had never known me.
And that my demise was unfortunate, too bloody to speak of over breakfast.
Your plastic company surrounds you, changing faces, changing horses’ midrace.
Eating the scraps of your rehearsed goodness, believing in the picture you paint.
To your face, your little army lines up, scared as small children…
met your boots…
Truth is no longer expected of you.
What empty thoughts could build such a sad facade?
Do you pretend to sleep at night, do you pretend to dream?
How can your days keep adding up, yet no wisdom you have learned?
I sought at first to help you, refresh you and awaken you...
I reached into the void, a frightening place for my pulsing, vibrant soul to feel,
You took my hand, then let me fall, disconnected from me you were...
For you had never felt such pain and passion and brilliance as I,
I feel, and you do not, so only I was harmed.
I watch you from afar now, as you cut throats and kick shins...
Like a giant in a small and fragile world.
I will take these bruises and these tears, and add them to my wisdom...
Your house will only fall, empty at your side.