Muscle Poems

The mess in our heads

Grabs our attention.

Attention to each other

Shortens

Because of this culture

I mention.

Quiet desperation is

No stranger to us still.

Technology, convenience,

While with the best of intentions,

Does not clear our fear, threatens retention.

Habits and unconsciousness

Return to us as lonely animals.

A contracted age,

Souls hooked like to internal cannibals

The less I talk, the more I’m hearing.

The less I talk, the more I’m hearing

 

How will we meet the One

When there is magical thinking?

That it will find us one day

Without effort?

If pacified and lonely

We are longing for communion

It’s enough for him to cope,

Not enough for her to live,

Hope that we can penetrate

And give

Before this social disunion

Walks in

To live without each other

Sitting right next to her

Something left to be discovered

Both planners

Are to be lovers.