The sky lies to you.
Every day the sky tells you lies.
You can look into the surreal blue of the sky
and cry at the beauty
cry at the heartbreaking colors and clouds
and the sun…
the gorgeous sun,
Such peaceful joy.
All the beauty,
while just to your left
two miles away,
a man is
pushing another man’s face into the concrete,
pushing his hand into the man’s pocket,
pushing his knife into the man’s neck,
pushing away and watching the man stain the world
before running away.
Such blue skies,
such loud cries —
behind you, to the south, two states away: where the two teenagers are
setting fire to a puppy while an old woman
watches helplessly from her window.
Gorgeous span of sky…
to your face, while nineteen hours away
a man races home to kiss his wife,
and walks through the door to be greeted by
nagging and bitching and whining,
so he sits and listens,
eyes glistening with tears he refuses to cry.
and down at the corner bar
the blind man singing the blues feels the weight
of the hate of the woman
for the woman seated beside her
and he knows nothing he sings
will stop them from fighting in the next hour.
The sun is setting…it’s obvious you’re
letting such glorious bits of nature overwhelm you,
but because you are human and are capable of feeling,
I told you, it’s a lie:
that gorgeous blue expanse of sky.
You can’t feel anything for it.
You can’t let all those blues and hues of red and orange
do anything to you.
Better to just deal with reality and the
grit of the world
than to feel those colors.
Better to feed into the misery and the
travesty of everyday life
than to let your heart ache for the colors
of those lying skies.