A Movement

You ask much of me,
Though I am hunted by the lack of,
An allusion shattered by hope.
Survivor of my past, my now, my existing,
Better than before.
A precursor to tenacity, perseveration, illuminating by touch.
I was born to be about reformation,
Congregations form at the sound of my voice,
Alarmed by their conscious woo of a stranger.
Unconscious and unaware,
Immune to their current state,
My being is through them.
Surround yourself with truth,
Stand alone and need not me to be your guide,
Rather a collective surrogate of one.
A movement is what I am,
Involved, Engaged, Activistism is what you see,
Authentic by actions. Realism at best.
Do comment or make notions,
Your perception is not my veracity,
Naked by virtue and unashamed.
Beat me. Corrupt me. Hang me.
I surpass your inhibition,
Because I live progressively.
A movement is what I am.

Atonement

As I move from my left to my right,
Hurt and pain dwells within,
Pulsating my desire, my silent plea,
For love.

A hug,
A kiss,
A call,
A touch,
Is needed now.

As they signify your existence,
In my world, thoughts, and breathe,
My air,
My hope is in you,
I exist!

And though I am alone,
You are close,
Near,
I sense you,
Whispering sweet sentiments,
Your smell is apparent,
I exhale and hold on.

Remembering our past,
Futuristically unknown,
Foggy and unpredictable,
I am bitter.

Unfresh, spoiled, and stale,
Leftovers from yesterday,
I have been forgotten,
Feeling blue,
I am no longer self.

As I await,
Your arrival is pertinent,
To your succession,
Happiness is through me,
I am you!