Don’t look at me,
For I am better than you.
Don’t catch me looking at you,
For you are nothing.
You have no courage.
You have no history.
You are an empty silhouette
Of nothingness.
And fear.
And stupidity.
And hate.
And greed.
And sloth.
Of ignorance
And hypocrisy.
Of false delusions
and dreams deferred.
I am the bum,
So don’t look at me you cowardly prick.
I know who I am.
So tell me,
Who the fuck are you?
golden drops of magic,
raining up-
underneath the tree.
a mute chorus
singing of symphonic
glories.
To welcome the
witching hour,
and all that follows her.
sitting at the bow of a fast ferry heading to an tiny isolated island in the Gulf of Thailand; drinking a 30 cent can of Singha; listening to U2’s Beautiful Day and looking at the sun reflecting off the water and also across the backs of a school tiny little fish which kept pace with the boat, periodically jumping out of the water.
fall silently
onto the concrete.
echo the solitude-
honestly.
steps
lead you to
where you’ve been before.
lead you there
without.
Take
those steps,
no matter the rain.
Take
those steps,
no matter…..
Wounds all heals
is what they say.
lip service.
no?
but then how?
OK.
Clean light
Showing
Only what you
Need to see.
You find your way
Home
After you let her lead you astray.
If Phoenix waxed
Such cool flame
Would he ever wane,
To return again?
theDeprevation 