I'm writing to tell you I'm dropping out of college; I haven't told anyone. I'm twitching, Michael. The hunger came back a few weeks ago, and I'm not sure it ever left. Regardless, it's crying now, and I need to go. I need to keep moving on. I'm leaving for Chicago tomorrow. My train takes off in the afternoon, and when I get there, I'll leave again. I want to go somewhere new, Michael.
I want to go somewhere I have never seen before.
Now, I know you have to be worried, but don't, Brother. Don't you be afraid. I'll write to you wherever I go. I won't leave a return address, please don't try to follow me. You can't, Michael, you're too smart. Your place is here among these people; and mine is out there. You're meant for your books; I'm meant for my trees. I want to roar from the woods with a pen mightier than He
You were to awaken
And saw no stars in the sky,
Would you be shaken?
When the natural lights that once
Lit the sky
finally burn out
Would you even cry?
Its funny how we
Never notice the true splendor,
Until its left our sight,
And our hearts asunder
Do you see them now?
Those lights which captivate
Who twinkle harmless in the night,
Who express no anger, harbor no hate
The true purity of the world
Only shows form a thousand years past,
What a miserable truth
Which may not even last
Yet people sit there
Heads wrapped in metal and plastic
Too caught up in superficiality
For real wonder to stick
Those are the ones who
Will take years to understand:
That the stars and moon
Have left, and will never come back
People to meet through time travel
...and punch in the face.
In alphabetical order by last name (when applicable):
Hubbard, L. Ron
Kellogg, John Harvey
Marquis de Sade
Nixon, Richard M.
Pope Benedict IX
Pope John XII
Pope Leo VIII
Pope Leo X
Pope Pius II
Thoreau, Henry David
And nothing lasts forever
With envy comes ignorance
Alas, the lack of rhyme and reason
For the beat, the pulse
You can call to the heavens and scream for the angels to cry
To bathe in their cold rains of purity
To let relief wash over your like a rush of water
Though you do all this in the name of divinity
No spell can ever quite penetrate the mind of everyone to gaze upon you with clarity or glory
Live and actually live
Move with the grace of honey
Smile at who you are like you mean it
And feel the vibration of the beat, the pulse that lingers within you
Lust is not love, and love is not lust
The beauty of consanguinity lies within trust
Within leadership, respect and honor
The torment can be overwhelming when loyalties are split in half
When subconscious collides in a bloody battle with conscious
When your thoughts are nothing but nightmares, and you dream of hellish serenity
Where is the beat, the pulse of life?
Have you lost your yours, or is yo