Intentions

Oh, I dream.
Much like you, I dream.
And much like you, I get lonely sometimes.

Sometimes, I think the world hates me.
(Do you hate me?)
At the end of the day
I know it’s no matter.
There’s seven billion people in this world
and I can’t help but think that
most of us are just taking up space.
I think most of us are just trying too hard.
We get so caught up in words, the ethics of sex, rich meatheads, and cars that rumble.

Most of us awake with good intentions but
fall asleep disappointed.
We are capable of elaborate dreams, born with the
capability to spin with our hands
the most beautiful places in our heads.
However, most of us don’t seem to have what it takes to make such places reality.
Most of us get caught up in our good intentions
and then bury our heads when things don’t go
the way we wanted them too.

The funny thing is this: intentions never matter after the fact.
Intentions never matter after the gun is shot and the bullet punctures.
Intentions never matter after you crashed your car into a family’s van and killed their children
because you couldn’t wait five minutes to make dinner plans with your latest string — along.
Intentions won’t undo the genocide.
Intentions won’t undo all the cigarettes.
Intentions can’t heal a broken heart.

Intentions never mattered.
But you do.