ode to spirits.

hearing birds in the sky,
blue and desolate.
extend your reach to the hills,
upon the grass and dirt,
to feel nature's gift.
it reminds me of your soul,
a wildflower painted
and confined to a frame
in which i can view your calmity,
a part of the hillside
that reflects the sun.
a tree settles to the surrounding
sand with the wind;
reminiscent of the spiritual
serenity that surrounds your ears.
i could lay claims of
masculinity in a whisper,
take the skin off your nose,
but you are a seasonal beast
which lays in hope of ascension.
starving, hysterical insomnia,
dressed in intrusion of thought;
sometimes i phrase words weirdly
in a portrait of calloused emotions
but the colours leave me hung.

with your palette of prophets
juxtaposed between speeches,
leaving bones frail
and dressed in opression.
your truth is distorted,
blinded by the punches
in which disconnects you from this plane.
placed a hand on the riverbed
and became enraptured by it's flow,
a chimerical look into what my future entails.
just days moving sluggishly
desiring a more abrupt fashion.
days i have spent pondering,
an impetus for change.
kindred spirit of gregor samsa,
empathetic to the cycle of trying to adapt
everyday
and fighting change,
unaware of the distrusting glare loved ones place.
if your body is ugly,
but your soul remarks beauty
then they will not take heed.
dragging my metaphorical conscience through mud,
flower up my memory and
display my brain as simply a sum of parts
for i can not dowse myself
into expression any longer.
though another form has engulfed me,
appearance stands still,
so what has changed?
a lifetime of taking breaths is all i've
amounted to,
adjusting my trousers to the same part of my
waistline everyday.

counterculture immunity,
a pool of mediocrity hinders my swim.
but alas approaches the creeping of the
subterranean that pales,
pouting "ignorance is bliss"
and i believe it.