A corrosion of simple truths

portraits of a time, of questions, of illusions. TW: dark thoughts

Drying days of green tears
When the sky became the ground
Touching the watercolors
Seeking contrast
Avoiding the rain
Walking became more
Unnaturally insulated
By polyvinyl chloride

Visiting the fortress
Was never more than then
The river rising
Old broken weapons
And rolling lawns
Skeletons in a broken shack
Spending hours
Looking for glass

Walking miles
Through knee deep water
Cutting feet with each step
Running and crying
When that was still possible
The grass changed to pavement
Somehow it was lighter
Less bridges were needed

Now there is no more
The rain turns to ice
The brooks are cemented
Shoes will confine
The grass is dead
The sword of the revolution
Is needed once again
No more friends in caves
No more calls too far
The tide doesn’t rise

Still running
But only internally
Too far
Close to the old line
Too far
For 136 years
Definitely for the light of 170
It’s too cold to escape


To finally meet you
I know their name
I see them every day
But I’ve seen
Only glimpses of their face
In glass
In water
In film
If you have met me
You have met them
Or at least what remains
I’ve seen their love
Their hate
Their anger
The destruction of which they are capable
I know that they feel pain
But do they cause pain to others?
It is easier to hide them away
With the other Broken
Use their pieces as scrap
Allow them to gather dust
Yet there is something so divisive
About life away from them
They deserve to rot away
They are something to be concealed
They should be kept away
Packed into a box
I’ve learned to cover them up
So others don’t see
What they can do
Do they deserve to share my name?
Do they deserve to exist?
They were a child once
Back when they were still me
They felt safe once
Back when the world was safe
Back when I didn’t have to be
Anything but me
It was still loud
But the people were quieter
So I will let them go
Because the world is bleeding

Disproportionate
I must keep going
Though there is not much
Keeping me alive

I must keep giving
I cannot bring myself to take
I have lost so much already

I must keep doing
Though reason fades
I cannot abandon now

I must keep working
I cannot be lured by the siren rain
Calling me to lie on saturated grass

I must keep smiling
Though my soul threatens failure
Everything is wrung dry

I must keep lying
To myself and to them
For they cannot know the truths
That I question with the sun

I must keep living
Because that is what He wants
What He knows is best.

When threatened with mist
I left them in the water
They clawed at my arms
Reaching to me for life
Years I had walked the same
Passed the same brook
Different memories, though
Different water, too
Pain
Broken skin had washed
Leaves dried
The scars have faded
Further than the thoughts
Those will stay
Joy
Explored, graced with a friend
Mechanically arrived
Shared, laughed, were
Doesn’t know you now
Everyone moved on
I can’t
Love
They never came too
I was by myself
The boundary of connection
Forbode trespassers
The others gathered
For unspeakable reasons
I watched
Fear
I wanted to keep going
So I left them behind
Weighing them down
With piles of granite
They drowned
In the cold shallow water
Left but not entirely lost
It is too difficult to reunite.

Boxes
Missing the flame atop our heads
Why must we always look down?
Down at our hands
Down at our feet
Down at the boxes
The boxes that isolate us
Connecting us to divide nations
Our spines permanently deformed
Burdened by the weight we carry
The weight not our own
The boxes draw us down
Why must we always look down?
Down past our dreams
Down to the sea
Down at before
When it was not as it is
Living for things that have happened
Blinded by our own existence
We must determine unspoken laws
But we cannot see where we go
Because we never look not down
Why must we always look down
Down at the flooded stairs
Down at the road
Down at the bones
The boxes lure us from reality
Into false peace with sharpest teeth
The boxes are unique
Shared with our souls
Parasitic and superficial
They cling to us
Oh, to be without a box
To be a child again

Maybe they are
24 is never enough
When you are sleeping
When you are walking around but not there
When you are doing but not thinking
7.25 is never enough
When you are breathing
When you are trying your hardest
When you are dying
4.0 is never enough
When you are disconnected
When you are broken
When you are drowning
And
30,611,508,844,516.16 is far too much
Or is it all
Too much