creep up pale cheek,
whisper about me
behind the teeth.
tendrils burying into scalp,
snapping the neck back
some say these soft,
phantom weeds, born
of the mind can be easily
exterminated through a wish
to be free, clearly they have
forgotten, we are no more than
lost children of Eden,
searching for meaning.
carried by the wind,
germinates into a dull ache,
sprouting dissociation as fresh roots
wrap around the ribcage, bitter,
beating heart numb to the bites of
venomous, verminous thoughts,
they have a stronger desire for life
than I can muster, no more than
a careless cadaver,
caught in the headlights.
A poor little flower-bed,
drowned in homemade herbicide.
definition: a lyric poem, typically one in the form of an address to a particular subject, written in varied or irregular metre (a classical poem of a kind originally meant to be sung)
Mayflies spend a year awaiting their birth, and then most die after living just one day. Their sole purpose is to pass on their genes.
we all are born bright eyed like mayflies on a linear path to our own demise no purpose but to
but that doesn’t mean we won’t try find meaning to a short lived life no time to cry fly towards the light quickly, before – good night.
if my hope for humanity had to be stored somewhere I would place it in a seed planted into the palms of lovers entwined love grows a giant oak tree
yet I see some leaves are caressed by the sun while others f
l silently littering roadsides, trampled over, so carelessly even though the shared roots suggest we are all children from the same family tree