Globes

The marvels of science, dimensions and relativity.
The future is up in the sky, but the universe is flat and revolving.
The earth is round, or so my globes lead me to believe.
It is hard to keep objective when everything begs for an opinion.

If you don’t pick a side then you are everyone’s enemy.
The future is oil as opposed to engines run by steam.
The world is littered with grids, or so my globes lead me to believe.
It is hard to keep obscure when everything begs for my attention.

Particle accelerators are trying to recreate time’s beginning.
The future is leading towards our end in a vacuum of the purest irony.
The seas are haunted by serpents, or so old maps lead me to believe.
It is hard to keep recluse when there is so much that begs for creation.

And it is all so finite.

Angels have died at the hands of critical thinking.
Religion started the wars but science supplied the weaponry.
The Earth is so small and fragile, or so my globe lead is leading me
to believe that wonder has come to such a sad dissipation.

The Tragedy

A triangle in the sand
contorted, grief stricken faces
and crooked spines
all looking in towards the center
between the three of them
all wishing back what it was
which the ocean has stolen

Ode to Snape!

I used to see love as something innocent;
wandering through the forest
and taking risqué pictures in the over growth.
Not as something perverted or overtly sexual,
but exploring the limits of innocence
within sexuality itself. Just silly innuendos.
I used to look forward to the apparent magic
that hid itself within the touch
and an optimistic outlook on the world.

I used to look forward to that escape
from the real world.
It seems that all of my escapes
end in ruin.

I used to wonder how opposites could attract,
not that it matters anymore;
it was never meant to be.
That since has become obvious.
Just imagine the fools we could have been;
can you see us happy, running still like children?
I still can.

But that can never happen...
You have since been taken from me;
once by love then once by death.
I am sorry, I am so sorry.

Now here I lay
bleeding on the floor
and wanting nothing more
than for you to look me in the eyes.
But all I have is this child;
of your flesh and of your blood,
but not of mine
to satisfy my desire
of this broken body:
Child with my love's eyes,
please look at me
for one last time
before I die.