Posted on

Guide Through the Lightning.

I miss you. Insist
you not embrace
this grim
fatalism, my dear.

Tempting
though it maybe be
to lick for lack

of anything
around you with true
flavor, this? It tastes

of honey,
but rest assured,
all of it is an illusion.

They are wicked
web-weavers.

Lies to meet an end.
Fuck ‘em.
To hell with them all,

rise, stabilize,
shake my hand, place
your delicate hands
in mine,

for I believe in you, trust
in you, reach
out my feeble, invisible hands
to assist you.

To hell with hopes
and dreams,
leave them to the mirror-bound
narcissistic eyes
always and forever
fixed on the mirror, prone
to frantic, manic

masturbating.
Release.
Conceal.
Take a breath.

Rise
up your fists,
raise your voice,
stomp
your feet,
like rolling thunder,

get lost
in the fucking and fighting
to find you,
ignite you.

This is where you belong.
This is who you are,
what you meant to do
in coming here.

Break through.
You need to.

I need you to make
it through to me.

You are my guide.
You mean
everything to me.

Do you understand?
Do you understand?

Traverse the distance,
meet the land,
break new ground,
help us build promising
direction.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s