Conciousness

We are in between the depths of our capabilities.

A polarized world that lives between marks.

Landing between these boundaries in any mixture, at any minute, with any number of unaccountable variables.

Between the backs of our eyes and the work our mind’s can do with a little inspiration and a lot of data.

Masterful work, the manner the mind twines the imagination.

Using countless amounts of sensory data, everything you’ve ever had the capability to perceive. Turning it to love. To hope. To pain.

To emotions. The new ruler of a divided landscape.

Capitalism

I’ve come to find that evil, not good is rooted in beauty. The rays of temptation piercing our eyes. Give us yearning, envy, self absorption. It’s refined with quality and vanity. Beauty entices. A tapered tempist. Built to cut slowly into the heart of you insecurity. Plant a seed. Grow you into a self loathing, falsely perceived, crucial being. The biggest mistake is believing that any of your actions are even in the slightest way important

Sweet Tea

could paint pictures with words. A million segments and cliches, beautiful for the first time on every first time.
There's something slipping through. An art I wish to ignite and burn till the embers no longer warm a soul.
I want to capture breaths of relief and turn them into midnight memories.
a make-shift souvenir I'd wrap around your wrist and smile.
Something you'll trip across years away, something that'll stop you dead and fill you with life.
And you'll miss when it mattered
And you'll feel it so gone
That ache, so unique and twined hurriedly and completely
wrapped around every second that fades like colors in the sun
the light reclaiming everything it brings
And she'll be dead and gone even as she lives

Can't Explain

It's that yellow glow again. Same old songs ring through. Pain whirling through the room. Not one person feels settled. I treck the lonely soldier's track. Keeping wanderers off and never able to keep the worthy around. The same old stamped dirty. I'm respected but never rewarded. Admired but never fulfilled. My eyes are hard and heavy. I fall and rise in a seconds time and this mountain view just doesn't do it for me. Not anymore. It's like running in circles. Doing everything right. And nothing. I'm a fool for hoping and as empty as the half hearted whispers I send to gods I barely know. Even my poetry is lost. Like there's no step up. I don't see it going anywhere. Tabled off. This flattened path. Self righteous. Self destructive. Cursed. If I could step off the edge I would. I'd leap.

Minerva 2