The Human Condition, part IWhat you would give for feeling less alone:Your intellect, but not your heart and tears.On nights like these your heart is made of stone.To stop their trampling your broken bones,And hide from them your dark and secret fears:What would you give for feeling less alone?They smile at the callousness you've shown,Your icy attitude towards your peers.These days it seems your heart is made of stone.But still you will regret how you have grownSo distant and so lost in your veneer.Oh, what you'd give for feeling less alone.You'll realize that you've never really knownIf someone once rejoiced to have you near.How tragic tha
DandelionsThe dandelions went to seed todayat last. I never liked their yellow headsbeside my path, exploding on my way.Those cheerful blossoms beckoned me to stay.To stray and distance from the track I treadand live my life away. Realityhad sprung up in the dandelions' stead.I picked one, and he sweetly, slowly bled.He shed a sugared tear for those like mewho live in fear. It ran across my hand.I slowly posed to set the seedlings freeand wish for life. It was not to be.As I'd commit the seedlings to the land,one day I will too be only sand.
TransitionThe world bled down my eyelids like paint down a canvas. Emptiness became all I knew. Then I saw a fearsome creature. It had the midnight body of a panther, with eyes of daylight. From its back grew two white feathered eagle's wings. As I stood in a black tunnel, the beast spoke. "You are in Transition," it said through unmoving lips. "To your left, a red portal. To your right, a white portal. Every soul gravitates towards one portal. To arrive at the other portal, you must survive seven demons. You fail to comprehend. Look." With this word, the creature threw diamonds over my head. I began to cry inhuman tears, scales falling from my eyes.
view from an airplane windowthe clouds lie belowtolerant, or maybe indecisiveas stratus and cumulus hold handsthe sea turns in its bedshowing blue and silver and greenrestless as it dreams of creatures it will never see againthe horizon stretches lazilytaunting clouds to meet the seaas its arms encompass the edges of the worldthe wing of a metal bird slashes throughthe clouds, the sea, and the horizonall framed in three oval-shaped layers of glass with the shade up.