I don’t care about cliques
A few people trying to tell themselves
they will transcend
I’d rather unite
It’s a bit like walking a thought
down a washed out road
The severity of the gone-ness
needs no transcending
The road needs more rocks
I don’t ask permission to be myself.
That Bothered an old man
who once put his hands on me.
Doesn’t any more.
Sky looks nice tonight.
Discontent and unaware, please don’t let’s wake our minds and stay there a while.
Some cabins have memories.
Location: Foothills of the White Mountains, NH.
Photo taken by Matt’s phone.
It’s dreary watching rain wash away the snow.
Not the feeling of depression dreary.
Simply the visual of what was,
back again to being unseen.
Forgoing the hollowed feeling of pain-
A mind at ease may fill the caverns.
Although, I fear, if we achieve to make
all of our memories obsolete, where then
do we stand, and what mirrors will we know.