#nujeru

all has gone astray, aspirations retract in the face of anxiety conjured up from the uncertainty of tomorrow. no differentiation found between blood and the origins of aforementioned trauma. stumble through definitions of worth, “keep going” we’re told as state and being coalesce. life an extension of an apparatus said to be essential for mobility, upward into love, success and whatever’s left to be found in between.

respiration holds us close to what was loved and lost in lieu of a chance to pass  between this & that, new ground  upon which to break bread with those unsettled by fixed notions of time & place. it’s anyone’s guess as to what was meant by the ways we shared this life, often spent beside ourselves, focus blurred as we attempt to reclaim the past. accentuate what’s to come with shades of elation, distinct amidst sullen crowds desiring something other than what remains. our ashes will hide the only certainty: breakdown of form, an innate propensity to shift with the rhythm of inner space.

focus on the detriments left in shadows to be brought out  at argument’s convenience. simultaneous addressing of  abuse: systemic/personal, & how the two intertwine @ the root. collective anguish leaves us lost to those who cannot fathom the need for expression of grief for the ones we never had the chance to meet. a demand to be heard is taken, as if it were the very body/soul/being we commemorate in songs/poem/march, yet no longer will it be silenced, for we  who bare witness shall no longer allow societal passivity to remain the guide for our moral compass. shall we stop looking elsewhere for the leaders we need ourselves to be? the sound of our reaction to empty hands is deafening.

cryptic sentencing impedes on a dream deferred due to this static age we live in. what flows from nerve ending nowadays bares little resemblance to the energy once possessed, currently held captive by our uncertainty for what comes next.

a disconnect seen coming by those who’d been battered by the storm as it came around all those times before. the sobering glow to remain a reminder of empire, and all which festers beneath its sheen. a force irreconcilable, for past & future have blended beyond recognition. is there any room for these lines amidst the echo of what’s really goin on?

sittin’ stoned in a space not quite my own. life drags its feet towards a conclusion distilled from missed chances, fleeting glances catch fire and fizzle quick as they came. where’s the right mind to handle it all? if someone, figured this out, i’d be pressed to know how far gone they truly are beneath the air of presented comprehension no time to dance with those who make it all worth drifting through, finding beauty in the alleys we’d wept in, allies gone and closer than ever before. these emotions swell, coagulate with(into) one another, no sense in trying to stop it. all this to be grateful for, hallowed be the ground we walk on, for it speaks in tongues of tar, diction indescribable, yet distinct in its unabashed harshness.

love finds its way through crevice & knot tying us to blues concealed beneath each embrace, however forlorn they may come to be. what is shared resembles energy spent in the throes of death knell romance. a better place remains lost in abstraction, a vision stitched from bygone scenes propped up as idyllic, where everything appears absolute, absolving us from earthly sins long enough to believe their presence is gone for good.

allow our eyes to drive us bleary into night, until bled dry by what hides within. clamor for end but what would it mean, especially when words fail, once again, to resuscitate dying notions of purpose?