poems of the lid

before reading further, put this song on in the background. I was listening to it on the way home after a weirdly stressful day. it was in part due to realizing that even as a manager my bosses still don’t value the work I do. I’m supposed to be running a store, yet they still run me, and whenever ANYTHING goes wrong my store’s employees come running to me as if I’m the cause of all of it.

anyways, I was listening (to the song, Don’t Bother They’re Here) and it calmed all of my nerves. I was reminded that I needn’t put so much conscious effort in hating the way I’m governed at work and instead work on governing my own time to feel like I’m doing what I should be doing. what I love doing. making music. writing poems. so is that song on? because you’ll need it to immerse yourself here (and bonus points if you put the whole album on).

Don’t Bother We’re Gone


And their refinement of the decline was in hopes to get rid of it for good. We declined into a river basin to be sent into sea. It wasn’t of pain, or sorrow; but the joy of stripping off what kept us on our doorsteps and dropping into something we only ever dreamed of. We were dissonant, hesitant at first. Refinement takes work and work takes effort. And we declined every offer of retribution from our mundane selves for a frail feeling of stability.

Day to day activities of little importance. Night to night activities of little substance.

We found our way.

The sun pierced through my headache like a bone cracking to compliment my rhetorical ways. It stood, broken, to be mended. And like all healing it takes a bit of pain to get back to normal. The cracking of my spine reminded me of that.

I never wished to be broken to the point where I’d forgotten I was even broken to begin with. You find little cracks, and step over it in hopes of not becoming cursed. But what’s cursing is stepping over it in the first place.

Hills arise.

Heads fall to their feet. “But we’ve been at this for days.”

Not far enough. Push. Harder. Another crack.

It isn’t that. It’s a fissure now, and everything up until now is lost when you fall in. We couldn’t step across this time. We wished to just be in the sea already. I do, too. I find that it isn’t your own head that traps itself in until you start wishing to be taken out. Don’t tap out. You’re not wrong for being broken but it becomes a problem when you carry the brokenness around for no reason. Find a healer and find them now. They live in the woods, on the highest peak you could imagine. They deal in waves and can take no for an answer. Refinement takes work. Where’s the effort?

We found an answer. It was buried deep beneath our feet, and we stood just far enough above on the ground where we knew we would need to dig to reach. We dug and dug. What was buried was a note telling us to keep moving. It was made of glass and broke at the slightest touch. Before I could even read it it was in pieces in the hole I made. So we kept moving.

We searched for stars; maybe that would lead us. It was still daytime, and the only star out lead me to my knees. We’re so easily blinded. Why are we so easily blinded?

Glowing skies loomed over a sun-washed field. Some patches are dark. Some are encased in gold. Some are in-between the decline and the ascent. Uprise! We have a long day ahead.

Just like yesterday.


and with that, I need to sleep. I have another day ahead of me.

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