Man To Man

Freshly ripped wings from my back,
at least I can walk
like a man still bleeding;
I cannot fly
missing wings once attached.
Trail shivers in the air

it follows you walking away
it follows as if I were following you

but I cannot lift my spirit
as you stretch out the horizon
and mark the path in my ink.

I'd follow it to find you
but I feel you are
not to be followed;

Instead, I step into another way
clean of knowing;

maybe walking along
I'll see you in my periphery
an empty sky between us.

Exploration Of What I Vaguely Remember As Emotion

Being apart ain't easy in this love affair. I get the joy of rediscovering you. And since we're here together, let us not part ways with broken promises and lies told. We both know that light shines so much brighter when our lives are intertwined, together as one.

Insignificance belittles our magnificence as artists, not as works of art, although we are neither, and one more than the other. Flattering smiles, brushed cheeks and unknowing, the singers make up songs about us, about themselves.

Everybody knows that nobody really knows. Somber messages are drunk, and being sober pushes us to drink further from the chalice of poison. I don't understand where the soliloquy began but there was a sound at the start. This petite utterance was a golden voice in the sun, glaring at the darkness as if it wasn't even there. Such bravery. Why do we not share the moments when we are together and how can we not realise the futility of estrangement, of difference, of any reasons why there is no celebration? It's not always going to be someone's birthday, but there is a day today, and here it is.

Embrace suchness, for it creates a sensation of being, and that means it's one step closer to reality than potions and cocktails. Makes us feel rather than think. We both like pressing the keys instead of voicing it, and as such we both /emote rather than shine a light on our sentiments. Let's not run away again, we are in this together after all. We can hold each other's hand and be there for each other, not just like in the movies because the movies are movies. But because we care.

Language betrays. Questions are asked, and answers are given so more questions can go back to the end of the queue. Now there's no point in placing the blame. Hurt is just an empty plastic bag in the wind, hiding silhouettes of nothingness. The people are the ones who shine. Their spirits glow, and I can see. This is vision, when punctuation ceases to mean anything.

The Little Boy On Both Sides Of The Door

Naked are you? Your fingers are clutching down on the keys of the piano like a foothold. Why are you trying to anchor yourself amidst such a flood? You know you'll drown. Don't you worry, you don't have to go with the flow, no matter where the waters lead. There's a spirit in you, a fire, a focus that's inextinguishable and yet here you are, trying to force the world around to stop changing by fixing yourself in one spot.

You are not gravity. You're not.

But you don't need to be. Surrender and you shall be set free. You can swim, but you don't need to unless you let the waters take you. Where they go is where you are.

And here is where the key turns inside the lock and the door lies shut. You know, I probably closed that door myself unconsciously because I feared what would be on the other side. I thought it'd demolish me. Somewhere on my side of the door there's a scared little boy with tears in his eyes. He looks at me all the time, and whenever I am near the door begins uttering a cry - when I touch the key he moves his little body forward, ready to jump and hold on to me, and his expression turns grave. He doesn't want it open. He wants to stay there in his corner, safe with his headless teddy bear. I don't know what to do, because when he cries, I cry. I feel his pain, every chord that strikes within him I feel. I am stuck in this dark room, key in the lock. I want to open the door, but the little boy's fear grips me right before I bring myself to turn the handle and I am trapped. I cannot move, for fear that the boy will perish and thus that I will perish. He doesn't want to fall, he doesn't want his teddy bear to leave him. He doesn't want me to abandon him, but I know that I can't take him with me. I know what is beyond the door, but I am finding it difficult to remember as I am in the clouds, the evaporation of the little boy's tears, with teddy bear heads floating around me. I must break through. I must turn the key, turn the door handle and open the door, then step out.

On the other side, there is another little boy standing. He's smiling. There are no corners here, no shadows to hide under, no walls to lean on, no ceiling to cower under. There is total freedom, something which I cannot understand.

Who am I? If on this side of the door I am a coward, a fool, a scared little boy, then who could I possibly be on the other side?

There, I am whole.