Au revoir, à mon coeur et à mon âme

Walking pathways of death as respectful as one is able,

You find an occasional numb in the midst of being overwhelmed or unknowing of what to do and how to feel.

Faces of those who might know the area as home are illumined and regarded,

Faces of those visiting are studied as well out of curiosity,

And then those who are seeking a new home in this unfamiliar land;

They are the ones who you do your best to assure they have been seen,

While the world may seemingly pass them by.

In a world on edge,

Below ground can be a place to find peace.

When walking caverns that have become hallowed halls of history,

A certain stillness is found even when actively observing your surroundings;

knowing you’ve temporarily escaped the chaos and noise of society above.

In refining one’s self, you find that you also lose pieces of your “self”;

It makes you wonder if it’ll all be worthwhile,

or if it will be just another phase or season.

Something meant for a scrapbook rather than a defining step forward as a human,

Compulsion rather than immersion.

My critical eyes have been poked many times over,

But I believe the time has come to gouge them out.

For I’d rather gain knowledge blindly and objectively,

then have the privilege of sight but also the handicap of unneeded critique.

With bones dislocated, emotions suppressed or dead, and a mind rather empty;

What good would I pose as just another spoon fed oaf?

As I prepare to leave,

I don’t have a final destination.

As the mirror reflects a face that is familiar,

I don’t immediately acknowledge it as my own.

Maybe a shadow of someone I knew,

Or someone I’d rather forget I met.

Just a sketch of someone or something,

From a place no longer existent.

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New Versions of Old Ideas

You can only talk to yourself for so long,

No matter what could be the topic burning in your brain;

It’s far more exhausting sometimes just keeping track on your train of thought,

Than even the most awkward of interactions with others.

There is something about it though,

That glare of another persons eyes;

Burning through your back,

A look so familiar & yet unique for every situation.

Sometimes it’s a look of disdain or disgust,

It also could simply be a look of shock or listlessness.

But it sometimes just feels like the no vacancy sign is on worldwide,

And the only room for you is inside;

Inside your own head.

And you’d never think it could,

But it just might;

Now the one who wants to throw you out,

The one who doesn’t want you around is yourself.

Resign or Refine?

It’s all pretty simple.

Although, that’s only in word

where simplicity is found.

Ultimately, it’s a choice only oneself can make.

Just remember, that when you start to think you know;

You don’t.

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Vicious Awareness

In the midst of the storm,

I see the fog very clearly;

But the fog is all I see,

And my sight may as well be as clouded as the world before me.

Evidently my understanding is lacking,

At least personally if not fully;

But I must digress.

I appreciate that the weather can be inconsistent,

It’s one of the few inconsistencies in life that I’ve learned to enjoy.

Assistance unwanted is typically the first offered,

Or that’s what I’ve discovered occurs most often.

I’d rather not display more jadedness,

In the midst of our society that seems to at time thrive on it;

But the charade of being mute has lost its thrill.

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GentrifEye

Business suits & dime bags,

Roxies & Xanax sold out of a Dolce & Gabbana.

New apartments starting at $3,000+;

Next to the tent city between 7th & 16th.

In my moment of treat & luxury,

Walking to get a cup of coffee;

I watch a local rocking himself into a higher state of mind.

Cracked up,

The high isn’t coming quick enough.

On hands & knees.

Dignity isn’t even a factor unless I have my needles.

Crawling on feces both human & animal,

My loyalty is even questionable unto myself.

Some sights & smells of a poverty of health;

Makes you wonder

where a city truly can find its wealth.

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Things Better Lost Forever than Kept Temporarily

Loss is inevitable,

& ironically accidental on occasion.

The loss of materials however,

Are often given more importance than they’re due.

Even easier than our bodies,

All materials will eventually rot away back to formless dust.

Saying goodbye is healthy,

Not always ideal;

But better to learn willingly than be brainwashed into it.

In our world that avoids pain at all costs,

Perseverance is made out to be synonymous with jadedness.

In a time of history where stepping back & admitting wrongdoing,

whether on a local or international scale,

is something seen as stupid rather than noble & brave;

What more could you expect?

Don’t dread loss or avoid farewells long overdue,

In being encompassed by this resistance to reality;

You’ve effectively already lost you’re main & probably most unique to society.

Yourself.

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Just Short on Change

“Goins! Goings! Gongs! Goings!”

Amidst these misunderstood yells,

An empty cup is identified as an empty shaker.

Whether my pockets are empty or full,

Much to the dismay of the person clearly shaken,

They won’t receive the change they actually need.

When your mind is on a journey,

That somehow your body missed the invitation to;

The changes worth considering or needed,

Don’t typically jingle.

As the shopkeeper laughs insultingly,

While giving a glare that is almost parental;

Change is desired from the situation.

But for once,

a jingling of a pocket would be hope ringing out.

As buildings fall like tears,

And prices grow almost as fast as children;

Transition is inevitable,

And yet your white knuckles grip something that need not remain.

It’s ironic how that which we put forth most effort to keep,

Is exactly what prevents us from reaching our true & highest potential.

Whether it be habits of abuse or excess,

Mental paths darker than winter at the North pole.

In our twisted & misguided plan to be true unto ourselves,

We valiantly lie & cheat in order to find comfort.

Would you,

Truly,

Like some change?

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Don’t ty

Awakened by Apathy, Surprised by Salvation

I step onto dung encrusted pavement,

All my senses aside from taste are assaulted simultaneously.

I begin my usual, almost redundant, & predictable walk;

A walk of streets that for some inspire fear & anxiety

others are inspired to hunger for power & respect.

My main hunger as I walk these streets is typically either for food or to not be noticed.

On days where I’m noticed,

I have various choices.

I honestly speak & interact with whomever I encounter

resulting in mixed reactions ranging from pleasant to angry;

Or I can act ignorant & blind,

Either choosing to act as though I’m afraid of the tough talkers

or acting as though I don’t see the atrocities that keep these streets busy.

Sometimes I think so much that I wait for my brain to explode,

But the bomb never goes off;

And neither does my mind.

It just keeps running these marathons of contemplation;

Like a cocktail of aggravation & meditation.

It’s truly ironic & strange how we often embody what we hate,

Better to see the irony though before it’s too late;

It’s about taking time not some stupid concept of fate.

This is a call to people who actually think;

Next time you complain about a character trait or habit you don’t like,

Step back & take a look at yourself.

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When looking to make changes(really of any kind), please as tempting as it is; don’t begin to think you can do it completely alone.