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Gregory Ernest Middleton

Gregory Ernest Middleton

Lover of life. In an intentional relationship with myself to end white supremacy. And making a mess doing it.

Highly Sensitive…beings

3 min readJul 23, 2025

Highly Sensitive People
or as I like to affectionately refer to myself…
human.
Being.
Evidently.

Evolution is a confusing thing
as we adapt to stresses placed upon us
by white supremacist — Supermessy — Regimes
rooted in gains
capital
of a human type.

Land is owned by who?
Tumors placed upon once fertile land
and we see what the infrastructure doing
with a clear lack of planning —
or perhaps…
part of the game of pain.

Compounding self-interests,
cause money, honey,
trickles down from their shit
and we desperate for it
in order to live.

Pause.
You are loved.
I love you.
We love you.
More than one. More than two.
You are loved through and through.

So all this abuse of power —
we in the final hours
(years, perhaps,
time’s a funny thing
when you refuse to change)…

But I dream of better days
on shores of an Ocean
where we reconnect
and reflect
on the days we leave behind.

All the pain —
washes away with the tide.

Baptize me in these waters,
on this, I will pray.

“Find Jesus,” I’ve been told
— or my way to, also true —
but here’s the thing:

He of one
many more
lies in the cells of my body
from the same Earth
same divine
cosmic clash of titans
where life did evolve.

Earth.
Father Universe perhaps.
Two to tango.
Eating mango —
luscious and ripe and juicy too…

just like love ought to be.
Not this pain.
Not this misery.
Of war.
On evolution.

Love denied.
The ones in charge —
highly abused, make no mistake.
They feel it too.
Most.
If not broken yet…
one day will
with the pressure of this world
we know so well.

“This is how it is.”
Onward more…

Pause.
A moment, if you will
once more
and hear me when I say:
SLOW DOWN
just like father Resmaa,
a brother from a common mother.
A man like that —
a treasure trove.
But bank accounts never know.

Capital’s a thing of a world
we care not for,
but in this one…
well.
Gotta make some
to survive.

Just ask the homeless you drive by
on your way to work
like mindless drones…
Heavy sighs
in heavy traffic
in a world
with leaders
who lead
by systems
taught to them
by people
who own them too.

Oh my…

I dare say things out loud
that would otherwise cause offence —
I SURVIVED.
Bet they wish I didn’t.

Didn’t bet on love being enough —
but it is.

Love’s enough.
In a world where they can’t get enough
so more and more they consume…

How much of you
do they own
in their investments
of wars and genocide
of displaced people
who did nothing wrong
but be born
into a world
where we all feel trapped…

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Alone.

Not all. But some.
I hear you.
I see you.
The lonely ones
who’ve been discarded,
unable to fight the fight
in a hill we run up always,
never down,
until we fall…

And who will catch you
when you do?

I’m at the bottom, waiting for you.
A pool of water, if I may —
cool and fresh
and pure
as a new day.

Away from government failures
of systems’ intentions
where they need leaders,
not bank accounts.

Offshore, of course.
Tax havens.
Lovely.

See how well it serves
when you but nourish
Earth and worms
and something new
will grow.

Earth adapts.
Always has.
But we…

Trapped.
In a cycle
that evolution now
must acknowledge:

We are one
or
we are none.

Stand tall.
Cry if you will.
Find me.
Call my name
when you think you’re alone.

I’m receptive
to the pain.

I will gobble it up
and wrap you up
with words of love
or silence
if needed.

If you need to scream
in the forest
where nobody can hear —

I do.

The trees carry the messages
on winds that blow,
and moisture
in the air you breathe.

Drops of water…
like you and me.

Pause.
Here.
A moment.
And reflect.

This, a taste
of something you forget
but now…
ripples.

Love never dies.
And you will live on
in good deeds.
In fond memories.
Even those who paid the price
with their life…

Love for all.
Lost and found.
An Amazing Grace.

You are the sweetest sound
I hear
in the silence
as I type
about all the things
I’d make right.

We
make
right.

You are not broken.

You are sensitive
because you are human.
Evolved.

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Gregory Ernest Middleton
Gregory Ernest Middleton

Written by Gregory Ernest Middleton

Lover of life. In an intentional relationship with myself to end white supremacy. And making a mess doing it.