The Wake

My eyes are a bit glassy today
Whether from the wind whipping tears
Or
This physical sickness, born from that misbehaving cigarette.
Flickers on the security monitor
Make me think of barrels + counters
And their coming of age love story.
A purely mental headache develops.

It’s this state of buildings
Changing the weather.
Twisters can’t even touch the ground
And the sky must hush itself.
To not feel the elements
Of that “Evil” they speak of seems unnatural.
Every “people” has been brought
Down on its knees in centuries.

It’s not a matter of justice.
It’s not a matter of pure fact.
It’s not a matter of lacking compassion.
It’s Sanity vs. Insanity.
Cause we always pray to our God, Gods, Goddesses, or ourselves
Before battle with ourselves and his or her God,
Which undoubtedly kills everything we knew before.
Logic would tell us
That someday we’ll see this island
As a bowl and the ocean smiling, glad to fill it.

So you can’t blame me for this throbbing
On the right side of my brain.
Because Time never stops making history.
You could try to stop her…
but I hear she’s a wicked fighter.

No. I’d rather put these headphones on
And imagine that it’s the volume
Giving me this massive headache.