many men
speak a good game
but few
follow through
because breath
is cheaper
than sweat.
i'll admit
i'm guilty
of saying the right thing
at the wrong time,
guilty of being human,
guilty of breaking my back
over the handful
of emotions
i've encountered
which are
unique enough
to pursue.
we've lived through the past.
we've seen dynasties collapse,
we've seen men die
for no good reason,
for no reason whatsoever;
we've dreamt of utopia,
you and i both,
together,
but know
man will do
what he's always done.
so i focus on
what i can control,
how full this glass is,
how i react,
how i wish
i could reach
across latitudes,
grab hold of you
and whisper in your ear
that everything
will be okay,