HOME | DD

Description
The waves crash over an empty shore,
There used to be so much.
The waves reveal what was once sworn,
There used to be so much more.

When you look between us
What do you see?
Is there a reflection
Or resurrection
Of what we both would like to be?

I’ve been searching the world
For just one word
To describe what I lack.
A sentence.
A paragraph.

Articles and special reports
Continue to dictate the world’s retort
To the hatred that wells up
And flows along the streets
Then fills all the holes
And the gaps that it meets.
Where there once stood a perfect curve,
Like the one I saw
That stole my nerve.

Day in and day out
I wait for an idea,
An enlightenment, a soul.
Day within and day without
I wait for a plea,
A discarnate hole.

File away the pictures you took
When things seemed better
And your life was a book.
Now the pages are torn out,
The binding is gone,
The numbers and chapters
Were burned.

It’s funny how things
Come down to the second
Right before death
Grips your mind.
That icy, cold winter
When you see the whole thought
And your life flashes like an instant
And you see that what you got
Was exactly what
You deserved.
The chilling reality
Is slowly spurred.

Description
The waves crash over an empty shore,
There used to be so much.
The waves reveal what was once sworn,
There used to be so much more.

When you look between us
What do you see?
Is there a reflection
Or resurrection
Of what we both would like to be?

I’ve been searching the world
For just one word
To describe what I lack.
A sentence.
A paragraph.

Articles and special reports
Continue to dictate the world’s retort
To the hatred that wells up
And flows along the streets
Then fills all the holes
And the gaps that it meets.
Where there once stood a perfect curve,
Like the one I saw
That stole my nerve.

Day in and day out
I wait for an idea,
An enlightenment, a soul.
Day within and day without
I wait for a plea,
A discarnate hole.

File away the pictures you took
When things seemed better
And your life was a book.
Now the pages are torn out,
The binding is gone,
The numbers and chapters
Were burned.

It’s funny how things
Come down to the second
Right before death
Grips your mind.
That icy, cold winter
When you see the whole thought
And your life flashes like an instant
And you see that what you got
Was exactly what
You deserved.
The chilling reality
Is slowly spurred.