Moving through

this reality

is for the precocious,

not for the vexed.

It’s all at once a mountain,

and a valley,

and an ocean.

Hostile and constantly

trying to trick you.

Irrational and conniving,

a guarantee to wound.

Nothing is ever

as it was

in the beginning,

and this is its

most redeeming virtue.


Amidst all of the stumbling,

the blood congeals

into something

briefly wonderful.

Constant is,

what constant is;

the misery

and the suffering.

The hand of Man,

the hunger,

and the wailing

of despair,

but even in all this shit,

you can grow a flower.


Plow it under,

harrow the enemy

and plant a garden.

It might be

the most important thing we do.

Creating these

temporary victories

that keep us going

and pushing,



This reality,

is not for the faint of heart.

It’s killing me.

It’s killing you.

Such a lying bitch.

So much is precious,

but it’s fading out…

…fading out…

… catch it.



HG – 2019

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