who defines the problem? who defies it? there might be five steps but the first four are slippery, covered in moss. and they'll trip you up as soon as you set foot on them.

the problem isn't that i love you. the problem is that i love you so much that i would give up the things that bother you in a heartbeat. how much is too much? where do i draw the line between what i shouldn't be and what i should.

am i really on my father's path?

death was all around
and not a single lonesome sigh

(you have a pressure in you
to destroy the one who loved you)

trivialities

it's been a long, long week and i'm slowly losing everything i have to give. no, this is not complaining; this is my saying, thank you for pushing my limits, week. i appreciate every second that you gave me to feel frustration seeping through my veins, especially the parts where i took complete control of that frustration and reduced it to the trivialities of being.

"sometimes you have to give in to win."

this is my road to a clear conscience, clear heart, clear mind. living solid for my own being and for others.

tainted obligation

you fight hard to make meaning of metaphors,
and yet you miss the whole point.

697 times. over and over and over,
poked at, prodded, skipped around,
alluded to, (the big picture in the
tiny molecules that make up the
thread that makes up the sweater
that covers up the body that is
made up of molecules, not like
those of the sweater, but close
enough to point out inconsistencies),
over and over and over...

and you might fight fire with fire
but i promise i will fight with a different kind
the kind only i can produce at my core
the kind that:

breaks every inhibition
lasts longer than a five-syllable word
remains truer than a momentary "right" conviction
fills every vein with a pump-pump-pump that inevitably
will tear inequalities apart.

(i can't see anything else that could be
any more appropriate.
you can hit me all you would like to,
you can stab me, slash me, cut me open.
i won't blame you.
just remember - these veins run deep,
red as the freshly falling leaves,
spilling out every letter that i
refuse to form on my tongue:

you can fight fire with fire
but i will fight your fire with all of my love.)