“Of brutality and love: Friends"

If I could paint the future

And not worry if it was blue or red

I would paint it in our colours, our marching band, our winning team, our trial before test before trial before test again

I would paint it in the blood red of friendship and the sharp grey of flaws

For we did not just fall down

We were wiped with the floors

If I had an image of things done and not done

I would make it straighter, less lame and with more bombs

These are the heroic quests from the soul

They do not tell us anything, not anything whole

Cliff notes, blurbs, dreadful summaries, one liners

The truth is far more circumspect

The angles bruised and worn out

There is no perfection, there are no heroes

No villains either

Just moments, good and bad

When you carried or you were the bag

If I had a recording

Of every single voice

Every football game, ever silly knavish trick

It would serve no use

Until honesty wins the day

So all I have in parting are the things we used to be

Painting, picture, recording

A manifesto never lived up to

Drawing down into the realm of grace

Faster only to discover

We need to move at the same pace

This is all about arriving at the same place

I had a dream once about lagging behind

I felt stronger alone

Like a fish on land about to die

Thinking, this is breathing

No, this is dying

I had a dream once

About wearing a crown

Now I see those crucial thorns

Put it on me now and still

I now can see the future

It is painted blue and red

Our colours, our marching band, our winning team, and our trial before test before trial before test again

              The blood red of friendship and the sharp grey of flaws

The fall down

Being wiped with the floors

The rise

Together.