My heart is not entirely broken and the reasoning is you.
Though for the longest while it has not been whole as it once used to be,
take solace: half my heart is still beating because I have you.
So when you feel as if you are not doing enough,
and your worries are still intact,
rest easy my love for you are all there is to keep me going.
busy steps on crowded pavements.
on with the work, they think to themselves.
not a life to live for but not much can be done
when you’re trapped in a thoughtless game never won.
so few tilt their heads and look at it questioningly
when higher echelons strive off of our success and failures mercilessly.
“up the ladder, they go!” we cheer bitterly.
then why — why give blame to whomever vulnerable?
unfairly treated, belittled, and to put all fault in
yet never to those who presented it?
never to those who put them there?
they work just as much as us.
twice as much as miserable, thrice still not being enough?
apparently, to not be treated humanly
is when you’re not being paid enough.
equals do not exist here.
we have moneyed people to adhere.
as our misery escalates,
i do wonder of a world where we finally choose to save each other.
we were never kings;
we rarely lived and we break.
they have their golden swords;
blissfully unaware of all the souls that are being shed.
we are a series of bearings;
forlorned and opaque.
there aren’t enough words
to describe how truly i’ve been dead.
There is this vigorous urge to outlive
so much of this hurt.
It sways violently like a sailing boat in
the midst of a restless thunderstorm.
And I’m consumed by its cataclysmic ways.
The tedious goings and knowings,
and goings and knowings.
When one can only afford less,
you get by with what little in yourself you have left.
The thought of that overwhelms me, like a damaged boat
consumed whole by a hungry hurricane.
Having endured this much, I only seek a home to return to.
defeat in springs.
wayfarers moseying in delight.
only i to have felt loneliness with an old friend.
surveying the many acquaintances in daylight,
i have noticed all success is they,
grounded with so much rapture.
then there is i,
stowed to nowhere.
for chased triumphs is bittersweet;
none have i had the privilege to hold.
was i to be left unequaled
in the bass of everyone else’s victory?
as i live through the withdrawals of great sanguinity,
i have to unlearn and erase a part of myself
in which was the sole cause of my obsolescence
in these passing moments,
i had shed ample tears of all that was lost in me.
but, even when mourning the severity of these losses,
all the tethered daydreams still tethered.
the lady still awaits the green ray.
It's Getting A Little Dark Out There 