Can you feel it through the city smog?
Of course you can!
This is all vibration
And nothing against the city
But the smog could not kill these thoughts
And the thoughts come in waves that
Emanate toward your heart
And I am all flailing limbs when I speak with intentions to love you,
And clammy hands
And you are all
gentle stroking of my hair
And loving touches of my spine
And I crave to rip into the muses of your brain
The way a werewolf would rip into your heart
But I am no werewolf
And you are no prey
And together we are two people
Sharing bits of soul and purpose
And it hurts so much to love you so hard
I’m waiting for the moment you say you’re sorry, months from now, when I’ve finally had the energy to transform into someone new and someone better.
Waiting for that moment so I can laugh and brag about how lovely my life has become without a parasite always attached to my core.
So I can tell you how much I’ve grown to love myself without you.
The way I see it, there’s a puzzled look on your face right after I finish the “Fuck you.” With a period instead of rambling forward with a list of reasons why.
And I’ll smile while I sip my iced mocha in the September breeze and watch you walk away.
It’s been months since I’ve heard from you, and I won’t allow myself to even pretend to care… you obviously couldn’t pretend long enough to send me even a heartfelt
“I care about you, but I’m fearful of what’s to come so I’ll act like you don’t exist until you write an angry poem about me, and then I’ll come running back and tell you I won’t do it again. And then I will, because I’m an incredibly immature asshole.”
I promised I’d always be honest with you and I’m damn-right going to hold myself to it.
I mean it when I say I wish you well.
You’ve taught me to love myself enough to let go of people who treat me like the one they want to talk to only when they’ve run out of better options.
Yes, I get that you’re doing the best you can with what you know right now.
I told you it doesn’t make you a bad person, which is true, but the part I left out is the part I hope you learn from.
I hope you learn from your emotions.
I hope you learn not to treat others like they don’t matter just because you’re hurting.
And I also hope you read this not-so-poetic-angry-poem.
The seasons are changing, and I’m changing with them.
My father told me the story of his youth
And how he’s grown old and his father has died
And how he wishes he could remember all of the moments from his “golden years”
“Those were the days, man.” He said.
And I looked up at him, teary-eyed
And thought about how sad everything feels now; even if I can find joy in certain, perfectly lit, almost too-good-to-be-real moments.
Like a photograph.
And if I’ll remember these days as my “golden years.”
And what happens if I don’t¬¬—
If everything I remember is gray and still, like a poorly lit room during a storm that’s lasted days after days after days.
And then we sit there laughing our guts out,
Like everything is okay when it’s not.
And I turn away and my thoughts wander to the same old soundtrack.
The one of monachopsis.
The one that sings about how difficult life is when you can’t pretend you’ve found the meaning in it, or hold it together just one more day.
The symphony’s sweetest sound is when lyrics are tied together in just the right knot.
A revolution doesn’t always mean weapons and protests and war.
A revolution can mean love.
Love: an intense feeling of deep affection.
It can mean peace.
Peace: freedom from or the cessation of war or violence.
It can mean harmony.
Harmony: agreement or concord.
A revolution is not always “a forcible overthrow of a government or social order in favor of a new system.”
Revolution: an instance of revolving.
Compassion is the new war.
What would happen if we loved all our neighbors like the bible told us to?
What if we started looking at the bible as just a book, and started listening to the messages God gives us in our everyday lessons?
What would God tell you? What kind of advice would he give?
Imagine words coming out of our mouths like perfectly harmonized symphonies.
True inner peace comes from loving yourself—not forcing others to love you.
What would the world look like if we started empathizing?
If we started forgiving ourselves for our “sins?”
Jesus isn’t the “answer.”
We are. We are the revolution.