Indignant Trust

Write this on a blank piece of paper:

Every feeling the name of the last person you talked to gives you

Whether it is decent, or indecent

Tragic or wonderful

Loving, or filled with hate

Write it down.


Standing in the middle of a field

That produces no crop

Contains no smell at all

Storms come through sometimes

And I have to lay on the ground

Praying it is over soon.

I have no shelter to protect me

Stubborn as a woman

That has had everything in life

Ripped from her

Or denied her.

Faith comes in waves

Sometimes I am the saint

Sometimes the hypocrite

At times, the servant kneeling before him

A perfect mess

Created for peace

Enslaved by guilt

Entrusted with more love

Than anyone has ever understood.

Sometimes shocked

By what happens to me

In the middle of this field.


People walk up

I don’t know whether to kill them

Or tell them to keep walking.

Peace comes in waves of silence

That I beg for every night,

Or at least used to.


As an indentured servant

To those that would do nothing but harm

I find only silence

Can quiet the demons within me.

Trust is out of the question

Because every time that word is mentioned

There is pain involved.





Foraging for food one day

I realize I have a gift

Thought many probably have it to

I like to relish in mine.

Taunting and teasing

Through metaphor and creation.


Take that piece of paper and read it tomorrow

Next week

Next month

See if you still feel the same way.

The shittiest thing about humans

Is their ability to throw one another away

With no regard

With no impunity.


Life, a tragic mistake made by two fools

That at one time

Thought they knew the meaning of love.

The forest (french)


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