Mask.

-FedeGrau Photography.

The truth has entered my head,
The fragile girl has left my body,
The blood has gotten thicker in manny-
manny ways
The realization has grown in me, like a soul.

Blind you are,
Deaf you are,
You are hidden with no sign of a map.
A mask-so dark-you are,
And all this is no new chapter in my book.








A Girl by Ezra Pound
The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast-
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

Things seemed better from further away
No details, just blurred visions mixed with formed opinions
Once I approached closer I saw the raw definitions of what they actually are
I saw the build-up. I saw the blocks that created them and the cheap cement that ‘s keeping them together
The unknown blur of a photograph that had potential beauty turned into an over exposed image of misplaced children
They blame the seeds that planted them and ignore their choice of growth
They hear the voices and the tones but only pick up the pitch
No one is to blame the boat was bound to sink in the sea of shallow
Ego comes over pride
And now I know, when I look to seek I should really hide.

Mind.

In my mind you’re an open book with pasty pages filled with some good and a whole lot of evil.
In your mind you’re constantly right, you’re constantly winning your constantly constant
In my mind, my mind has failed because for some time some incoherent part of me listened to you not listening
In your mind you’re such a smooth blade and every time you cut me it actually turns to truth
But in my mind I know I’m going to leave you just like your mind left you behind.

The day we die will be the day we understand

We all keep falling asleep and we all keep waking up
We all keep dying and we all keep being born
The images we drew have already been drawn
At one point, we all feel special you’re nothing special for feeling special mr special
Always thinkin’ we’re at war with the world when we’re always at war with ourselves
Trying to be in control of control when control cannot be controlled
Pushing the good things hopping for better when the good was actually the best
Nothing is ever good enough and enough is never enough
Perhaps nothing has changed since the last time everything changed