the edge of the psychosphere

don’t be one of those people.

the ones who know
but don’t know they don’t.

the ones that talk to say
something very important
to them
because
they are saying it.

the ones that echo
nothing and defend
emptiness.

you’re always learning
but teach where you can
within the remit
of your knowledge.

ask questions.

about everything.

and know that
you will never get every answer.

just more questions.

what’s the point of religion
if it dulls your critical thinking?
why speak if you don’t
want a certain response?

when do you utter love?

there’s magic in your
words
that can turn to poison
if you don’t know
how to use them.

so think for yourself
and know when
to shout
and when
to stay
silent.

Under the Setting Sun

I see another sunset 

and it’s beautiful. 

Magnificent. 

There will be 

another one tomorrow

which I won’t see

probably. 

But I assume

it will be just as glorious. 

There’s a stain

on my shirt

and I can’t remember 

who put it there

but I think she

defiled

more than laundry 

under another

setting sun.

My hands are dusty 

from the balcony 

as the azure

meets vermilion

for it’s daily fuck 

and I don't even feel dirty.

The crepuscular shower 

invites the darkness 

as my phone blinks

another stain

on my view. 

I slide the door 

and close

the world 

to enter 

another 

and seize 

the night 

before aurora

promises more

than she can 

ever deliver

again.