vines, alone, death, struggle, living

I felt your smile like an apple

with a worm

popping its head out.

I smelled your gaze as the

morning waves crashed

on the shore rocks.

I heard your mind sing out loud

and it tasted like cheap wine


your vines crawled up my


yet, you were not here in body.

My dear troubled soul,

I cannot know your pain,

as you can’t feel mine.

we are forever

separate parts of a

lonely empty universe.

there are as many realities

as there are people like us.

but, thoughts and sensations

are not proof of existence

nor do they last…

the moment we experience them

they become distant memories

we will never touch again.

yet, we are more alike than not.

we see life

by our own slant.

we all live,

we all die.

and, as we briefly met in

this mirage called life,

we shall meet again.

no one knows what’s in store

for us,


no one comes back alive to tell.

yes, there are stories told,

and they may see a glimpse

of what’s to come.

some are sent back

here again

for one reason or another.

but, we will never know the truth

until we see for ourselves,

leave our bodies

and have to stay


it’s a crying


we never take things at face value

expecting more from living

than it gives.

it is when we know our

life is nearly over we celebrate

life itself.

but, there is more than living

at stake…

it is in dying.

now, you know there is more to life.

a beginning, a middle and an end…

we all know at

which point we


made it to,

and dread the



of the unknown.

So, breathe deeply for those

not here anymore,

as those

who remain

will breathe for us

after we both

are gone…

take heart

my friend,

for we both will

be joining

billions of our



who have already

long braved this crooked


A L O N E…

it is not like

we are the first

to go to our

own hanging



and choking

or guillotine


with our heads

falling in a basket below.

maybe, the

old ones

who’ve departed

long ago

will be


waiting with

open arms

to soothe

and comfort

us the day this

dreary blanket

of solitude

we call




our heads.



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