[untitled]

an old poem I wrote a couple years ago.

12-15-05

 

This inanimate, bleeding object

is the center of our attention

not leading to any truths

and forever diverting our questions

but we still search for reasons

that will remain ignored

because we refuse to acknowledge

what we had

isn't there anymore

my feelings are abstract

and I fail to have them seen

however your words are concrete

and they destroy every part of me

 

Reveal all of these thoughts

while I tear out your eyes

I admit now, I'm spinning an intricate web of lies

to make these statements true

 

In the end...it's always the same!

you leave with your own heart

(yet with a blackened one,

for how can you still have compassion?)

but my heart will always remain in you

dying in the one person

who used to make me feel alive.