an angel observes the horrors of humanity

my superiors wish me to write of this world. well, what am i to say? it is bright here, the atmosphere is heavy. i feel as if i am a drop of darkness suffocating in a pool of light. their eyes, they scrutinize me. but oh, how their air smells and tastes sweet, as if that is not heavy at all. as if breathing it does not hurt my lungs so much that i struggle to breathe each night as i fall asleep. how sad it is to see them cut and kill flowers because they think they are beautiful, yet only to cut and kill themselves because they think they are not. i have never experienced something as astonishing and burdening as humanity.

they cut and kill their animals, too. i have eaten meat, but at least i remember the animal it came from. here they do not care. they purge and swallow as if the mean is not rotten. it tastes sweet to their tongues, but i will not touch it. some animals they do not kill; they lock them in cages. i will admit the sight is one to see.

their rivers aren’t even pure. many of them contain some kind of human pollution. though the water is clear, the fish still die. what beautiful scales have been wasted to be made into garments. what beautiful furs have come from slaughter. these people, everything they consume paints their lips red like the rising sun. it is a disgrace to my name.

even the birds are not free. they fly away from smog that kills not only the animals but the humans too. it even makes my eyes water, my breath stutter, my heart flutter. what a wonder and a catastrophe humanity has been. how have they survived here, and how long will they continue to? how can they just ignore their planet dying, as if it’s not the only one they’ve ever known?

oh, how i wish they could see. humanity is a disaster now out of any time, but it is also phenomenal. there are boys that walk on soft and hard ground alike, never flinching as the soil stick to their feet, or pieces of their feet stick to the soil. the only remarkable thing of note is their strength. their taste for change. many of them, i see it in their hearts. it is a strange thing i’ve noticed, what they call each other. is not all love acceptable? are not all identities correct? what matters is that they are all human, but many of them do not think that. it is irritating.

yet through it all, they are all strong. they have moved from sucking the life from flowers, to sucking the life from all around them. they still refuse to listen to the force that they claim guides them, when it says all is not well. when it shouts at them that change is needed.

i think i have come to a conclusion; humanity is repulsive.

baseball bats and shoulder pads

There weren’t Legos as much as
baseball bats and shoulder pads.
We would hit plastic balls
in home runs and we would
tumble down hills with our
baseball bats and shoulder pads.

My brother threw for me
as our father threw for him,
but all I know is Father’s anger,
and he does not throw for me.

Brother showed me how to strap on my armor, and sometimes the bats would turn into swords. Then Father’s anger couldn’t hurt me anymore. Our skin was made of steel and our swords were made of diamond. If our father was the dragon, then we were the knights to the rescue. Clad with our baseball bats and shoulder pads.

But metal can rust. I saw my brother rusting, and then I became dust. What was left of us? Baseball bats became wood again. Shoulder pads weren’t armor anymore. What we once wielded was now our greatest fear. What we once used to fight was now used to shield us from the flames. We were surrendering.

Then, ‘we’ wasn’t ‘we’ anymore. It was my brother, and then I. As if I were an afterthought. The baseball bats rotted away. The plastic of the shoulder pads melted on me. I was burned in the end, but not by the dragon.

My meadows turned to ash, the flowers wilted. And there I stood in the wreckage. All that was left was a baseball bat, and some shoulder pads.

The dragon had failed to burn those. He rusted my brother, burned my flowers, and turned me to dust. But he left my armor, and my weapon. And though the dragon won before, and I shake when I hear him roar, my bones are made of steel. My heart burns inside my chest, while my frozen skin crackles. This is my battle cry. Because maybe I can’t fight fire with fire, but I can fight it with ice.

So I grabbed the baseball bat and put on the shoulder pads. Now it’s time to face my own dragon.

humanity before angelity

they see him running on sunbeams in the early morning. stars are tied to his toes and they rattle behind him like chains, but he has never felt so liberated. there was a time when atoms were exploding in his lungs and he could not breathe, colors would fly behind his eyes and he could not see. his skin was numb from too many suns burning beneath the surface. he used to curse the morning; now he holds it in his hands and sprinkles it down upon us.

he still sees himself as human, is that a surprise? though he is stardust and the remains of energy, he is flesh and blood first. he came from the womb, not from the sky. he knew his hands before he knew his wings; he knew his words before he knew his magic. he dances with the snow on winter nights only to melt it away in the day. he drinks golden wine, it’s gods ichor he sips. he twirls his curls around his fingers and whistles tunes only the bluebirds understand. he runs barefoot through forests and though his feet may bleed, he brings the sunlight with him and that’s all he needs. he trips on skies and sips waterfalls, throws his wishes into wells. he can make miracles happen. what being in the world would want to make such magic angry?

a thousand suns have tried before, to hold him in their burning grasp. there is no force known to us that can contain him where they lack.

breathless

I have always known how to breathe, but around you I am breathless.
I have always known how to feel, but with you I can’t place it.
At times I feel safe with you, I want to hold you close and never let go.
Then other times I want to hurt you or myself or anything else to keep from screaming.
The sun and the moon were always set to collide, but I have never felt more at home in your shadow.
You call me magic but you are wrong.
I am no god or angel or otherworldly being, I am human, it is all I have ever known.
Gods and angels would know how to feel or they wouldn’t feel at all.
I may have power running through my veins but against you I am powerless.
Blood may flood my chest, but if you are the cause then I will call it nothing less than ecstasy.
I was always the boy with enough air in my lungs, but with you I am utterly breathless.

iii. why we kiss

we kiss because love is liquid death, and we’re just curious to take a sip.
darling, it’s okay to wonder about death because you haven’t tried it yet. just trust me when i say that love is the slowest, most painful route to take.

ii. why we kiss

loneliness is ten letters, and the thought of me ending without you because i never told you to kiss me is all i think about.
there is nothing i am more afraid of than feeling alone because i don’t have you, but yet i am terrified i will have you and still feel empty.
kissing only lasts so long but i can still remember the taste of your lips — honey and salt in the perfect mixture of sweet and bitter, for those who wonder — and i still hear the way you whispered my name against my neck in my dreams.

i. why we kiss

we kiss because the air we breathe for most of our lives is stale, but the air inside your lungs is the freshest i’ve ever tasted.
god, let me breathe you in like the smoke i crave, yet you still insist will kill me.