The Acid Tongue Trilogy (A Medley)

Dreamers

Dreamers are all it takes. They kind of pop up unexpectedly. The rest don't know how to deal with them (they haven't got the faintest idea, in fact), yet somehow they keep everyone's dreams alive. The tulip fountain, in it's finest moment. Lasting far beyond it's decline. Dreamers made us all, from every angle possible.

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...well, i was wrong

I put my hope out there, from the start of it all. Shadows of you, creeping in dreams. I soon saw it, I admit I was wrong. Well, what else can I do? You leave me no choice. How your tongue must be burning, glowing in the chasm.

I admit it, I was wrong about you. You and yours. I like to see the aforementioned hope in everyone, believe people are consumed by goodness even if something altogether different often transpires. What emerges isn't because I held hope it is because people are inherently selfish, they show this, and they rarely seem to attempt to understand those around them if they do not meet their specific limited criteria for what folk should be like. Then they swing their hurtful weapon words and it inspires me to waste little further energy, in that area, perhaps I can write though. I was wrong, though to someone else you could be utterly divine. All of us a puzzle that can only fit together some place, in some right time, with the right hands moving the pieces, trying everything on.

The acid tongue, flapping wildly. You know not how to use it with any control or compassion, how to make moves informed with love and intelligence, and i was wrong. About you, about many things. I was wrong. It's almost music, a song, I can hear it now, coming on the wind, in some birdlike envelope, something sublime. So, I'll sing to you. You'll be there, I too, only one of us will ever truly care though. I was wrong, happy that the room isn't full, for there is always space to move in, to breathe. Infinite space.

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You Are Missing A Vital Ingredient

I still want to love you. It could be from so far away you won't ever know. I believe in setting that peace, that sentiment, into the ether. Maybe somewhere it gathers you and wraps you in some warmth, teaches you everything is possible, real even. You are lacking some desperate core, not just seasoning. This is wholly amiss.

You, my dear, you startle me. If I were in hibernation, well, such words would shake me out of it. They would pound around my ears, in my little humble hole, and awaken me, not so much glistening in my senses as destroying them. Something isn't right here, I've told you before. Once, twice, poetry, they couldn't comprehend. Swings, and merri-go-rounds, and honey wings, my dear. I love you like you left me always five minutes before, painfully. Memories. You are missing something, beating and brave, blue instead. Everybody thinks they are what they are not. Just wait for that...