What if time,
Like space,
Has three dimensions,
Of which we've learned
But one?

No second chances —
Just a clock striking zero,
A calendar striking one.
No resolutions —
Mere hope that we're done
Making poor decisions
From this point on.

They may walk us
Up to the threshold,
The last step we take
Alone.

Children playing grown-up games,
Rushed through youth, taking places,
Making choices, casting votes
On matters already decided.

By many hands,
In one name,
Deputized killer saints —
Thy kingdoms come
To me.

Breaths away from heaven,
We feel closer
To the distant stars.

Fear not the dark,
Fear the unseen.
Fear not the silence —
Fear the whisper.

Chaos, endless subtlety
Intersects the radical —
Raw emotions, naked nerves,
Warring with the logical.

Heed those
Who lost the most,
For 'tis the season
To be merry.

We cannot learn
What we
Cannot feel.

Opportunists thrive
Where the eager venture.

Emotional snipers.
Desperation landmines.
Love is war —
Find me in the trenches.

This feeling,
Contentment,
It's something I have
Never known —
Happiness is trust.
Happiness is letting go.

Sheltered under mother's wings,
The world seems brighter
From the shadows.

Artistry may paint the world
To soothe even the strongest soul,
Ambition chisels mountains
Down to dust —
And yet, not all's about power.

Brick by brick,
Build it up, tear it down.
Brick by brick,
Babel reaching for the stars.
Brick by brick,
Inching on with blind ambition.
Brick by brick,
Closer to the fall.

The problem with we
Is the absence of I
And the implied them.

Mountain in a hailstorm —
Our lives, struggles, pain,
It's nothing to you.

They, not I.
Unfair, denied.
Want, crave, must, need.
Strike them, save me.
No wish to learn,
Each turn, me first.
So sounds
The misery sonata.

For all the things
We cannot handle,
All those things
That can't be said —
No reserves,
No exceptions —
Anger is the weakest outlet.