Discard

Here they lie, direlect shells of their former selves. Like dozens of long-nosed bugs, they stare at me as I stare at them. I feel sympathy for them, the once-great machines that flew through the clouds. All that remains are large fields of shapes, the forms of their former glory, and I feel for them. Is it unusual to feel things for something that was never alive by human standards? And yet they were all alive. My beliefs will not let them rest. Their pieces scattered like material dust, I can only look at them and feel.
So many people. So many cars, planes, boats, vehicles of all types. People used these things, and after we are through with them they are discarded like, well, scrap metal, except they are the scrap metal we relate to so often.
And one day we will be discarded too, just like them.

The filth. It covers everything around them as they walk through a place full of it. Around the yard, the trees are vibrant shades of green, and it's amazing that such colours could exist surrounding the disgust of the slick black oil. How can they build cities, communities around this? Gaping holes in the ground, islands of metal, mountains of garbage. How can these colours exist here? How, when we are so disgusting, can people ignore that which once served us and now works against us? They form roads of candles by the light it gives them, and once they have what they want they discard and ignore the remainders.

Stairs

We keep climbing these stairs, going up, up, up.

But going up does not mean we are going anywhere.

We keep climbing because where else is there to go?

These stairs go on forever, and we keep climbing.

Climbing up, up, up, higher and higher.

What's at the top?

We never reach the top of

These infinite stairs.

So what would happen if we decided to go down?

This spiral staircase, crawling up into the ends of the universe,

If there is nowhere else to go, we must make somewhere to go.

What happens when we turn around?

What happens if we fight against the

Crushing wave coming up the stairs?

Why, then we might be going somewhere.

Do we have to keep climbing?

To work to keep up with the others climbing these stairs.

We are not falling down these stairs.

We are not falling behind.

But we have found another way out.

Perhaps a more difficult way than going with the rest,

But we always have more than one way off of these stairs.

Sleep

Kissing your smile, I snuggle farther into your embrace. It is so warm here, encircled by your arms, and I smile myself. You kiss my smile, and tuck your head under my chin. I curl around you and you are warm inside the protection of my arms. We are content in our embrace under the covers, our bodies pressed close, and though we sleep we are not too warm, and because of each other we are are not cold either. I want to stay this way forever, as do you, but eventually we will be forced into our cold world again, to deal with ever-so-pressing issues when we would rather be back in bed together. It is nice, for a while, to feel each other. Although we would always rather be asleep with one another, our love is still the sun on a snowy day, making the snowflakes dance and sparkle, and bringing your springtime.

For Theo.

To You

I am dead
In my mind
Spreading the disease
A dying life
Where are we going?
Will it ever stop?
Thoughts swirl around In my head
Where are we going?
Reaching out
To you,
Will you come if I call?
Can you stay
While I always run away?
I'll always be running
Running away from you
Can you be happy with that?
Don't die
T'would be a shame because
I think I'll always
Be coming back to you.

When I leave, you'll know.
Till then, I'll always come back to you.

Trees

This is a tall tree.
It starts with a trunk
One base, comparatively small
But it expands upwards
Reaching for the sky
And though it starts
as something very small,
One person standing alone
In the Rain - In the sun
It tentatively reaches
Outwards towards the sky.
Growing branches it expands
Making connections, relationships
It can get so big
It can soar above all the others
But, someday it will die.
Maybe it's worth it to stay small
So strong winds won't blow you down?
I think we should all reach up
So that our inevitable fall
Will be all the greater
A majestic ending to a glorious life.

Live. Love.
Such a shame, such a pity
That sometimes branches have to be cut.