FOX.HYDE
12.13.20
the right choice will never taste bitter
so we shake off debris from our jackets
knowing it’s not new love we’re afraid up
more picking the scars of old wounds
maybe we’re too old too old to wish on shooting stars
but we’re just old enough to fight for the things we care about
doing it in a way
that makes the space we see with our eyes
join the air in our lungs
extending the hand of compassion
forget tolerance
tolerance implies some disgruntled patience
when I sigh
I want the root of our causes to sip in every drop of nuanced complexity we’ve tangled in our hearts
we all have demons making eyes in the mirror
and we live in a word
designed for monsters under the bed
every word ever spoken is made of the same breath I breath
so breath
breath, love, keep looking forward
look madness in the face
let it know
it too has a place in purgatory