The slimmest volume can hold the heaviest world.
The weakest signal can reach the strongest shoulder.
The rockiest path can find the calmest shore.
The hardest seat can balance the most fragile soul.
So yes, this blackened heart will face the brightest Light.
– bH374
When the throat is straitened
and each weeze a corrosive churn.
My eyelashes become mallets
Pegging my sight down.
In ground.
Every raspy word lifts
Like steam in your cauldron
Boiling and reacting and
Unhurting
The only way we can to ourselves.
We’ll collect the remains
And archive the strains
But my mind will forget
As my body witholds.
And my brain will smile
At new seasons
And trends.
Forget the old, forget the current.
The future is definite so hold it
Precious.
Even though my breath can’t catch
Up. And I’ll still lie.
I’ll still lie.
I’ll still lie.
Reaching the quarter.
The century references dig
in its depth is death.
No lights and abundance
of noise.
We reached a pair of decades and
rushed for more.
Hated you.
Hated the past you.
Hated the you of now.
And hate the you in death.
Nothing makes you an angel.
Mold and plasma till
memories give you heart and smile.
Depth of the grave.
Depth of your human self.
Goodbye worthless
And captureless
And ageless
you. Goodbye.
Hate how it’ll change for you and for you and even you too. I’d
do it.
Again and again and again.
but this is expandable
this is tissue
this is just. Only not just.
this is talking over the head
this is words gone missing
this is me.
And this me is tired
or calendars that mess up
and groups that add up to
Spinning ideas and
lame humans
that pay too much for a human like face
and socially accepted manners.
This me says delete the days and
bring back the halls
of honest home.
~bH374
(On a brighter side note: The picture I’ve added to this post is from my trip to Chatsworth House yesterday. So very amazing.)
bH's blog 