portraits pt 1

He touched it to his lips and felt all the power and calm of the world slide through him
Sometimes you experience a moment- one second that changes your life
because we arent running out of time- its all we have
but i cant stop because if i let myself. stop. and think.
It's always you.
it was always you.

portraits pt 2

He stood from his hill and looked down but in the wrong direction
He knew they were behind him, coming for him
To spill his blood and cover the earth with it before they burned away the surface
Everyone else was gone. Killed or run away to live as the dead do.
He heard the drums. Hollow, stiff, and metallic. They lacked the souls of the drums he knew.

He knew things they never would.
So when they came for him he was looking away. Thinking what a beautiful sight.
And when he fell, the earth took him with love.

I wonder if everyone else can see right through me like he does
I get mad when he tells me how fake I am.
"So why are you with me" I ask him.
"If I'm so damn terrible, why waste your time?"
Because it's worth it, he tells me.
It's worth it for the fleeting moments that you are real, Because it makes me feel the happiest and most fulfilled I ever have in my life.
I wish I could give him that all the time.
The problem is I can't tell the difference. If I'm so fake and have so many fronts, then I've been doing it for so long that they have blended together and become an integral part of who I am. Or who I think I am. Isn't that what we all are anyway? Just a blur of how we see ourselves and who everyone else thinks we are. I used to think I was a songwriter. Then a poet. Then an artist. But I'm looking around, and I have no paint, no knowledge of more than 5 chords. And I don't rhyme.
I have two basil plants I've managed to keep alive more than a week. So right now who I am is an accomplished gardener. A nurturer. A protector. A guardian. I wonder if that's how he sees me. If that's as real as it gets.