deepundergroundpoetry.com
By Ourselves
We search without regard
Without regard for the deaths or the suicides or the desperate souls in need of a touch
We search with our eyes closed for another that shares our desolation
We touch with our hands and with our hearts but we never find exactly it
We never find it but we never truly believe it isn't there
The shit collects around us until we butcher what beauty is left
And the hope fades
Without regard for the deaths or the suicides or the desperate souls in need of a touch
We search with our eyes closed for another that shares our desolation
We touch with our hands and with our hearts but we never find exactly it
We never find it but we never truly believe it isn't there
The shit collects around us until we butcher what beauty is left
And the hope fades
Published 2nd Sep 2015
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It is true that many can't see the forest for the trees,
and thus cut the trees in search of the forest. The
hopeless desolation in this anchors on my
solar plexus and reminds me just how heavy it
feels being here, sometimes. But, then I remember
that there is love, there are those who care, there
is joy to be found in the morning fog past the silence
of receding dark.
3rd Sep 2015 9:10pm
I don't know why I dreamt of this verse last night, but Floyd's Wish You Were Here was looping in the background.
"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year."
it was very strange and yet insightful.
"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year."
it was very strange and yet insightful.
