These Colors Don't Run

I grew up in a city of wealth and prosperity, I grew up with two parents who loved me, and the environment that surrounded us fostered creativity, Now I watch it all crumble beneath my feet, in a crumbling economy, in a land of uncertainty, and fear makes me believe that nothing is coming, nothing better is coming and even now I watch Rome burn slowly.

And they all told me to pick my chin up, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off my own two awkward feet.

To fix our problems you gave us a uniform and watched the bodies pile to the sky, a youth so violent, so loyal, untrusting, self loathing, satisfaction seeking, self serving, and wasteful human beings. What do we owe them when they’ve given only their lives.And what happens to old fathers, their stories and tales, forgotten.Can we not learn from them?And what happens to old mothers, who’ve already seen their sons come home in a pine lined box.

So to rid myself of these pains, I buried myself under the dirt, and committed myself to the earth, waiting for flowers to grow.




WHEN HAPPINESS CEASES TO CREATE STABILITY, SEARCH FOR THE MOMENTS THAT YOU WERE ALIVE.