NOW I MUST WALK ALONE

This is real talk.

Imagination became sacred back in the days when blazing wasn’t even a statement, but rather adjacent to the struggle of a sun rise. A hundred times over and still haven’t discovered the answers for the questions which plague us all.

Trip and fall: dust off the knees — bloodied indeed, but never broken. Determination is paramount regardless of alone or in groups of troops. We need to reboot the way of thinking. Never blinking— once too many and miss your shooting star. When I shoot these bars, they call me Cyclops. I relate more to Logan.

Never needed a slogan to keep my head straight. Weight sold through history has brought me here. Solve mysteries faster than the increments which make up minutes. This will never be finished.

Never diminish this fire or extinguish this tower of intelligence; distinguish myself now so the rest become irrelevant. I continue to pray and slay demons. Whether mental or physical, they get ridiculed.

Let’s cook this food. This is the meal the world’s been waiting for; hunger no longer. Get stronger through discipline and listening. My words soak the blood out of fluid pens, like ruining already-built entire empires of thought-process. The heartless will be exposed for their fugazi ways. Play this in the haze of purple skies or rainy days.

Reminding me to cry to be human. Resuming my responsibilities as a man, and stand alone until the day I’m called home. Summon me for poems written in stone or digital; these sentences get extracted like dentists’.

I’m venting. This requires the newest font out, but don’t worry. None will be left out or left behind. This is some random stream-of-thought from the corners of my mind.

Written By: Matteo Urella / 2005

Original Photography: October 2015