Liquid Romance

Liquid romance.

Fluid, in nature.

Deplorable, in hindsight.

How many times will I give way

To the relentless waves

Of these half empty oceans I dive into?

Head first.

I never even test the waters,

I just dive Right in,

And let the undertow take me.


More Than Houses 

Something solid,

sturdy to stand on.

That’s what I need.

Something more than houses

made from straw.

A floor I can stomp on relentlessly,

walls I can lean on hopelessly.

I want something built to last,

and to hold the weight of the ins and outs-

the ups and downs.

We don’t need a mansion,

just walls to lean on, and a floor to stomp on-

a solid roof to live under.

Because I would rather sleep in a box made from stone,

than a castle made from sand.

I would rather sleep 

without the floor washing away,

or walls of straw collapsing.

Just something small

and sturdy to stand on-

to lean on.

Because big things don’t matter

if they can so easily be swept away.

In the Arms of Bliss 

It’s strange how we break down mountains from the bottom of a valley.

I guess you can say misery loves company.

I guess it feels good when landslides sink to our level.

Oh, how I’ve misjudged the tender feeling of ignorance.

How wonderful it feels to be in the arms of bliss.

We all do it.

We all hug it back.

We all let sweet nothings whisper in our ears.

Telling us to stand amongst the burning trees and set fires,

or to throw stones in glass houses and watch the walls shatter.

At the very least, redundant.

At most, repulsive-

to let silver tongues lick our necks, and whisper to us, like we never had a choice at all.

But we did.

We chose to dwell in valleys,

and to bring mountains down with us.

How I hate what we’ve become.