Thinking it was safe to know you, boredom set in. Stable thoughts all the time, are the wild horses pulling a carriage desperately looking for wine. Friendship is finding the instabilities in heart and head, seeking the clay to pack into the cracks of the eroding foundations, as kids running around a broken heart. It’s hard at times thinking and knowing what they look like when they’re crying, but it feels great to forge forth in innocence and glee, on what could have been without sin.
Your human, and filled with bacterial hopes and viral dreams. Genes are tattered with wars fought, and filled with the dead carcasses of mites the ancestors didn’t let suck them into dread. A blinding light resides on the hilltop of your soul, it’s blinking silvery in the moonlight, and flowing molten turquoise in laughter.
Catching a ride on the express of kindness straight through the tunnel of your sorrows, while the falling boulders shattered my windows, and blasted against the parapets of the mysterious memories of mine. Jumping down into the pit of your demise, looking up at the sunshine birthed shadows of your yester-years grins, I can hope your guarded trust becomes unmet in my mind.
Swindled of grief your shames may stare at me with spite, becoming actions bent on punishing me for the gift of my care, but even then I dare. It isn’t fair, and it isn’t fun, but I’m waiting here in the furnace of your hate, praying you will wake up to a friendship we once had in the fixed miseries of my aid. The cavernous ceiling may fall, it’s faults looming overhead and as the weariness of anxieties sets in, I tremble no more about you.
You never paid, and that wasn’t the deal, but still you want to steal my joy, and stink along my trail of successes in your heart. Fear resides in the let down of your abandonment’s, not in the follow through of my appearances. I am not there to strip away your caged satisfactions with my love anymore, as a lizard I will bask on the hot rock of your scorn to survive.
When I begin to thrive and you return tuck tailed, open-handed and wanting what we had before, notice the glint in my eye of a faith betrayed, and please don’t attempt to break me again. As the balance of my sheet is torn by winds of your choice in a fate, and the sickness of infidelity that resides in you festers, I can see them mix, and yet, I ride the wave pitying your losses, and I still cherish the idea….of us.
Shrines and altars with symbols representing spirits like this sun torn Budai, especially the ones on mountainsides with rocked walls and birds above in the sky, are enough to fill the tear stained pages in my soul.