A Game of Cat's

Isn't it perfect that 

life is just a stream of X's and O's?

Each one blocking out the other as they go.

..

Doesn't it just makes sense 

that all that we see in front of us are 

cancellations, one after the other?

..

It's a string of blackout-poetry, 

and we didn't know that all the words we obscured 

and covered up contained the original meaning of life.

..

Haven't you wondered if it was true 

that who you are is just replaced 

moment by moment with someone else?

..

And this abstract version of things 

that you're trying to understand is just 

an infuriating game of cat's

that no one seems to be able to win.

Words that Confuse Time and Fall Off Pages

Where do the words come from?

As they slip 

and lisp from 

deep places 

and twist into sounds.

As they arise from 

inhabited thoughts 

that are illusions and 

illusive interruptions 

of space. 

And they have 

the capacity 

to bite and cut 

and jab into 

soft fleshy realities, 

while multiplying 

and propagating 

into overpopulated emotions 

and anxious breaths. 

What are words

but outbreaks of 

viruses that contaminate, 

confuse and 

consume time 

with their prolific 

verses and stanzas. 

Their offspring 

committing suicides by 

falling off pages 

too small 

to 

contain 

them. 

Every Moment an Instinct 30/30

Oh, how we compare ourselves to caterpillars.

But it’s like the moths gravitating towards bright lights 

then dying that we mimic.

How we tell children that dreaming is where happiness is made.

That when dreams come true, 

wings unfold with unimaginable colors and take flight.

Yet, the lives of birds, insects and flowers are not so beautiful as we are told.

Every moment an instinct. 

They are not joyful for their magnificence.

Our happiness on the other hand has the habit 

of transforming like clouds to tears.

It’s not true that rain comes from the sky, 

and rain is not falling to the ground.

Why do we lie to ourselves?

At the top, will the view will be enough?

From the top, there is only room for one, 

looking down,

                                              looking down.

From the top, 

       there is 

                only 

                              looking 

                                         down.

Staying Takes You Somewhere 29/30

Which-

ever 

the 

way to 

go?

Up, 

down, 

same thing. 

Depending on

what you're looking for. 

When to move? 

But even staying 

takes 

you 

some-

where. 

The only 

constant is 

constantly 

going. 

Suffering 

is trying to make it stop. 

Stopping is like perfection; it doesn't exist.

Ephemeral Architecture 28/30

Life is a delicate structure,

Built upon ephemeral architecture. 

This transient space 

we call time; the framework. 

A short-lived experience endlessly eclipsing itself. 

For Something Pure to Bring Home 27/30

From far away, 

Squinting sharpens your features,

Brings definition to your edges, 

But you are still too far to touch,

Comprehend,

Have. 

I listened to the music that 

Tickled your ears 

And softened your heart. 

But all I heard 

Was the droning of a tired bee 

Out looking for something 

Pure to bring home. 

And all that squinting for the future 

Brought tears to my eyes. 

No Thing to Tell 11/26

There is no thing to 

Tell you,

No thing to tell,

It's not to late to find your feet

To get you through this spell. 

Take your steps,

Step with care, each footprint 

Makes a dent.

Reflections move and change their views 

With every rivers bend.