if you’re still watching
The heart said ignore the page. what with all this madness going on how could you think of love at a time like this anyway a poet is told to capture the times expose truth to a blind society written like a watermark only an artists tears will bring to surface and with michael and eric and freddie resting in peace and pieces there is so much to see beautiful brown bodies piling like trash on new york streets by the new york police there is so much to speak still my heart is confused the only tragedy my pen seems to be able to capture is us
i need to doodle you out need to put aside narcissistic concerns of us this world is burning we may not survive the flames, I know and my pen cries every time i get to close to the heat it will be this way for centuries I’m sure comfortably weeping a sound similar to that of my heart last time it was broken similar to that of freddies screams and erics gasps michaels silence These days my pen only wants to wring out muddied thoughts of you as if we are the only thing I still feel comfortable crying out loud about. These days my pain is both the fresh dawn of your skin and the starless midnight of theirs. These days every morning, I am mourning. And every evening too.
