Years have been covered in ash and torment 

Children, wives, fathers have not only lost themselves but their loved ones as well

I have lost my Maria, my Opa, and slowly my will to live

I still trace the number they imprinted on my skin

I still see the nightmares and horror, the death and the smell all too real in the starless sky

No matter what I do, what I eat I am still reminded of him

The trenches are continuously covered in poppies and blood

Hope is silver lined and I cannot cross it, it feels all too surreal
It feels as I will never find my hope

Even when I returned home nothing felt the same without him in my arms

The plum trees grew and prospered, the hens covered the grass with a sea of orange

Even though life was around me, I wanted to die

But the day when I had to save Vater, I have found my will to live

The silver line fading, no more words that taunt a good life, it is truly here

I have now found my Issac where the plum trees and poppies grow

And I have learned hope can still be found in war, in the arms I always love

Where water turns into miniature sound poodles

where hummingbirds sing

music to my ears

flowers are yet to bloom

I’m patiently waiting

I’m living love through stories that have yet to begin

soft streams of clear, untouched water

begging to feel touch once again.

your jeans were a masterpiece

your laugh was one of a kind

you have a violent mind, but your voice is like velvet

I catch your eye…you’re smiling at me

the world is frozen.. except for the breeze

and here we are together, simply for the better

and here we stay, togetherness

you’re my lilac, and I am the blossom.

Where the lilac blooms…

Why do I joke so often?

When you grow up you never divulge in the catalyst of your own self-contained world

The world is always simply self-contained

Self-indulgent

Your own world is

But aiming toward others is a human attribute is it not?

Maybe when the world was different

we were among the individuals in society who would rebel

Kill

Eat

T A L K

Read more: Experiment 002: Quintessential Comedy By: Jesse Diaz

But I know nothing of those days according to the elders

I was never there

No matter how many Movies I watched

Songs I listened to

My studies

The books

1984

It could never have been enough

Not for you at least

I miss it nonetheless

I miss talky neon lightly lights, glowing cars, and David Hasselhoff

How can I?

I just do

I am very sure back in these days I could joke

I could liberate

I could indulge and I could talk.

I don’t feel like I could do that anymore

Not for her, not for me

Not for anyone.

I could try for a while, but that is only a while

I wish I could grow up older

Back when I could talk

Back when the countries would never hate me

Back when comedy was quintessential