fears of men

The fears of men

are as trivial as

children, picking children in gym,

they never change

they just get bigger.

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Her beauty

Her beauty was ultimately marred
by my incessant need for her beauty.

I wished to tell her she need not try so hard,
though knew this to be, ultimately futile.

I even coaxed her with a juicy red apple once,
just to slow her down.

But she explained fairly how she didn’t like apples,
or huntsman, but preferred mirrors

because they spoke to her in words
that were not forced but honest.

She looked at me and asked, is it so hard for a frog to see her beauty could never have the power to transform anything more than its own fading?

And that no kiss could stop time,
that fairy tales are real, but only the Grimm ones.

Let me show you, she said, and taking my lips in hers, sweet like berries

I watched her turn to dust through the stained glass light of morning.

Toeing the edge

There is a fine line —
like a tightrope walker
toeing the edge —
between
complaint and contradiction
that makes me want to set
this whole word farm on fire.

Everything but the point

I read today
that Aries over-think
everything,
which explains
why I mostly
get nothing done.
It’s like a game
of start and never finish
where everything
gets in the way,
everything but the point.

More Violence

When a person feels safe

they become defensive,

they fear the loss of control,

if pushed

violence is their only means,

a means which only provokes

more violence

violence that burns

violence that spreads

like wildfire.