To the skinless ones,
To the defenseless ones,
To the flowers from birth
Who are shattered
Over and over again
By those we pity
Who will
Never know
What it means
To breathe
Rain.
Tonight,
I spit
In the face
Of history
And so-called
“Human nature”
To give this
To you.
This small thought
Of the infinite
Hills and skies
I can never truly know,
And will forever be
Imprisoned
By these incapable
Words;
This is my imperfect gift.
Tonight
You have
What little
There is
Of
My everything;
I give it all
Unequivocally
And wish
It were more.
But I promise
You have
Every cell,
Every lash,
And
I ask nothing
In return
But that
One day,
When you are ready,
You will
Bloom
And
Rise again;
Defiantly, vengefully,
forever dreaming
In spite of this world
We’ve made.
Los Angeles - 6/14/07
