The Earth They Shall Inherit

Blessed are the caffeinated
for the earth they shall inherit:
freed through "natural" stimulation
to work, create, and prove their merit.

When struck by inspiration
caffeine helps with the perspiration
to get things done,
to get awards won,
byproduct of its blessed percolation.

Yes, blessed are the caffeinated
for the earth they shall inherit.

Eclipse

I was blinded by him;
he was like the sun,
and I was sunburnt and parched.

You were like an eclipse;
I could see again,
every star in the sky once hidden from me.

I could not look upon him,
but I could gaze at you forever:
your gentle touch a caress in the night.

You can light my path
without hiding the heavens from me:
you love me without holding me back.

What You Think Love Is

She stands in her living room, with her duffel bag on the floor beside her feet. She hears him come in the front door and he says "Hey, I'm here, are you okay?" Her text message had said only "I need to talk to you. Please come over." That was half an hour ago. He only lives five minutes away.

He comes around the corner of the entryway, and hesitates when he peers into the living room. It has been three days since he last spent the night, and in that time she has managed to sell most of her furniture. All that remains is the coffee table and the love seat, which the subletter will be keeping.

Not with you, Sometimes.

I went to a show
and wrote poetry all night.
I feel so alone
all of the time.

If I could share your skin,
I'd climb right in.
'Cause I feel so alone,
but not with you, sometimes.

I walked all the way home,
and laid awake all night.
I feel so alone
all of the time.

If my heart could pump your blood,
I'd open it right up.
'Cause I feel so alone,
but not with you, sometimes.

Not with you, sometimes.

Repeats.

History repeats herself.
Am I doomed to the life
my mother chose to write?

History repeats herself.
Was her choice, too, a lie?
Did she live her mother's life?

Repetition makes an impression.
Are their mistakes
now mine to make?

Give your heart to the one
who will hurt it the most:
Love them, and then love their ghost.

Give your heart to the one
who will leave you first,
who will never quench your thirst.

History repeats herself.
Mama, Oma, Omama:
Is it your lives I walk?