Homeward the happy one goes,
While envy consumes the happiest.
Elated by games motivating them,
This past-time likened to conquest

Weep a chuckle with your mouth
And spew something celebratory,
You've followed no one to get here
Surely you should congratulate thee!

4:30 o'clock, place your finest bets
The fine west inspires gives targets,
In the orient pearl, eight in fourteen,
Nine with forty-five calibre, proudly.

The lowest calibre of sanity, and yet,
The most highest of all for happiness!
Is it really a teen's dream to kiss that,
Stainless steels and polymers black?

Something small and purple,
Beating it becomes red, click it,
It becomes red. Speak to this,
You get a response.

Nevertheless it is usually silent,
Amidst all jealousy and all hate,
No cries for help ever uttered,
This poor thing embracing its fate.

The nobodies surround it, with offers,
Of prescriptions and descriptions,
Misinterpretations, keeping it away.
Remorse distances itself.

Not exactly cruelty, not exactly,
But it's so unsatisfying, it flees.
Happiness not exactly, just nearly,
But it starts to feel something.

Dear Maria, I yearn for the same,
Grace like yours that will set me free.
Dear Joseph, See that I am not sorry,
To cure this blind man, it needs attention.

Blind surrounding the blind, and I am,
One who can only question too late.
This is the last game you play, with many,
And finally, this time they lose.

And sometimes, you join them,
With a goodbye kiss to the head.
It may have been on purpose but,
Something else should've happened.

Outside haste awaits me
It is hot with commotion
I feed the dogs a response,
Yet the heat doesn't cease

Yehey! My dog is grown up,
And I'm growing with it too.
It bites louder with each day,
Repeating old things it says

I ignore you dog, you howl,
I approach you dog, you bark,
I'm ignoring you dog, so scowl,
I'll just give you half a bowl.

I've got not much food to feed,
Need it both of us do, but you,
Sorry dog you've eaten it all.
Dog, I very do not like you.

Parental Guidance
I wish someone could guide.
This dog leads me to the alleys,
And it won't let me leave or hide,

Nevertheless it is usually silent,
Amidst all jealousy and all hate,
No cries for help ever uttered,
This poor thing embracing its fate.

General Audiences, alright,
I still listen to some dogs.
But dog, I don't understand 'bites'
Those other dogs speak to me clearly

Parents Strongly Cautioned
We are both living things dog,
But I cannot handle you much,
And you're sick, I see such.

Dog, please be quiet.
I don't want to give you my all.
All is for me, all and some dogs.
Maybe another time, dog?

When you leave me alone?
Let other dogs try, the quiet,
Benefit I believe you will.
Quietly, old dog, please try it.

See, I come home to many,
Many many dogs, I love.
Sorry dog, no room for you,
Though you do still take space.

Divinity surely doesn't mind imperfection,
For we made it? No, it made us, that way.
And the angels care not for purity
Albeit not proven, the holy texts speak to me.

Wait, no, not really, books do not speak...
Something far more lovely seems to be
the responder to my wonders, giving glee.
A voice in my head—no, divine intervention!

Winged and pure-hearted despite its mistakes
Soar high questioning, seeking joys aplenty
Hopefully the respondent sincerely agrees!
Now, maybe we may proceed

In this room is God and love in his hand
Love speaks all languages, reaches all lands
Yet understanding is still sparse, upsetting,
Could this be proof of the triune's shortcomings?

Nevertheless it is usually silent,
Amidst all jealousy and all hate,
No cries for help ever uttered,
This poor thing embracing its fate.

Could someone resonate with this shepherd?
His sheep scattered, broken, beliefs astray
Christ-like creatures still full of mistakes
I, the heretic, propose a hearty solution!

Enter the gates, lovely persons only
The mind is the heart, its gates please open,
in a few years just you wait, my divine!
Who is welcomed is sure to become many!

Something man-made is here and it is dangerous
A hot pile of what is most toxic and obnoxious
You my dear slave take a disgusting indulgent fill
And while it is most sizeable, you're not satisfied!
Certainly not, your hunger is utterly bottomless,
The sheer hedonism a display of submissiveness.

Are hands not better severed if you don't use them?
What a luxury you give yourself, effortless hunger.
Not a single finger moving a single damn inch, wow!
I've never layed my eyes upon so much work, my, my,
My worth amounts to nothing afront this renaissance,
Does it? My work's worth years of hot, flaming nothing!

Are ears not better deafened if you never even listen?
Seems that empathy is a distant memory, that bliss,
Explanations and teachings never last sinking in
A goddamn shame—But atleast your lust persists!
My love, it belongs nowhere, not even in hell's pits
Does it? My heart's as filthy as a pig, can't even eat it!

And aren't eyes better scooped out sometimes?
With a scalding hot spoon like a man once said
He was pretty wise, he listened to everyone's shit
Funny he never regrets dying for our goddamn sins
He'd look at me, both forgiving and proud I'm sure.
You never look at me, though I still stare at you

Are mouths better shut if bullshit's just being spew?
Righteous you call your glory piles of heaping waste
What a waste, you're a stain on your own little life
I'm sick of being so considerate now, I've forsaken me
Maybe you're a genius considering nothing of me
Dante? Maybe he'd see you down there, pet.

And I would have said it's better you're dead, but no,
It isn't worth it, not with who you're leaving behind
Not me but that poor family of yours, they'd mourn,
They still care about you while you care for nobody
Or maybe they're the source of all the shit you are?
Born impure, lived lukewarm, died a sinner, sadly
But who fucking cares? You're the angel, truthfully!

This is not a hopeful poem.
Not a line of text or letter shall exude hope,
As humanity cannot do the same, unfixable.
Though not all has succumbed to nihilism,
More than handfuls fixed on similar ideals..
As if the light above is a ray of indifference

Flowers are still abundant.
This world's no longer a garden, never been.
And yet seeping through the cracks, these fools,
Somewhat like I, or perhaps vastly different
Cutting through the weakness that we've become
Of little power, indeed, still firm in its ideals.

There is a long way to go.
Flourishing is a far bliss in this wasteland–
For here, predators trample what blooms.
Unsurprising that cultivation defined by this,
'Hope', a fickle thing, provoking these minds.
Ambition, a fickle thing, nearly humorous

Exertion becomes worthwhile.
Worth an execution, supposedly, these lives
To split petals off with a guillotine one-by-one
Fear not, no goodbyes are said, none heard;
the world will always have flowers in dumps
A striking array of color, in the grimy slums.