Hollow havens

written on January 1st 2019

Tell me. How many times would you dumb it down for the love to afford.

How many hearts will you have to wound and leave bleeding, down to their soul.

How many names will raise your glory, when death shows, not on accord.

With the rest of us painting our faces, angry at the art of the lord.

How we hunt for greatness among the pain in all of the world.

Blessed by the people who proved that pens are greater than the swords.

How long till we run to every place and person that feels like home?

Tell me. Why do I feel hesitation to counter old wit?

To stand up and shake my head saying “This isn’t it.”

To shed my skin, let them in on a mind of misfit.

To reach pits after pinnacles and rebuild bit by bit.

I love paint, it lets my mind throw up on every wall.

We live in different cubes on a sphere that is home to us all.

I like naps, they let me dream till I cliff-hang and fall.

Human tendencies are not for when we’re having a ball.

If nothing is ever permanent, tell me, why should I stay?

It’s easier to run from it before it’s taken away.

It’s a bad habit to linger among all of the grey.

In a black and white world that functions, come what may.

I’m in tears and I’m laughing at every letter I’ve written.

I’m laughing at every time I look back at being completely smitten.

Holding a hand now is the same as wearing a mitten.

Owing vulnerable pieces to all the selves I’ve forgiven.

If I could paint you a picture, darling, I would paint it twos.

One part that belongs to me and one that belongs to you.

In the corners I’d dot it with ink and all of the clues.

To names of places we can arrive at someday to pay off our dues.

~would you come~