people just don’t take the time to understand each other

and because of their pain

they can’t know themselves

the desolate planet is one where people become sick

and they don’t know why

those with money visit cancer spas

marveling at their lives

what was it for? A lifetime of ill feeling

protecting themselves

from things that never happened

people found a place in their hearts

who shouldn’t have been there

tortured by curses they rehearsed

the desolate planet

is windswept and tidy

narrow lives, living for those they love

close family

cut from their hearts

despite thinking of them, all the time

in desolation, there is peace

even if the planet doesn’t know it

lying in bed

standing on a dusty floor

desolation, in my tiny room

a desert, where most can’t survive

living on books

I thought were dead

passed over,

not given attention to

discounted knowledge, not worth having

loving it

looking forward to it

drinking from the well of wisdom

in the desolate planet

where kindness is discouraged



bright, twinkling people

sucking love from the world

while I drink coffee and smile

in desolation

speaking to myself

reading best friends

fumbling with forgotten words

that have offered hope

in desolation

for centuries.


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