BlindlyBlindly People see what they are told.
ChrysanthemumChrysanthemum Last night, I dreamt of us.We were together on a mountaintop,I was sitting on the edge,With my legs dangling above the bottomless pit,With a lone, white chrysanthemum in my hand as I pull the petals from the stem.While you were standing above me, looking on, languidly,None of us wanting to say anything,My own mental battle sewing my lips to one another,Unable to speak,While you were probably trapped within your own mental depths;In my mind, I was debating between venting and jumping,Simply over the fact I didn’t know what that look was in your eyes,But I think that’s probably the point, that we’re no longer of the same kind,Maybe I changed into something I’m unaware of, maybe you were the one to transform,But I don’t get the same feel of what used to be,This is foreign to me,An unapologetic feeling of extreme apathy,And that is the unfortunate reality of this situation,No matter how long
What Does Love Look Like?What Does Love Look Like? I often think about love.I think about the shapes and forms it takes on.And I believe it is all around us, even when humanity isn’t. What does love look like?It looks like the sunlight,Rays that shine through the clouds,Eternally keeping you warm and bright. What does love look like?It looks like death;The dwindling of the physical embodiment.Your hands may never hold each other’s again…But the souls of true lovers will never fade, true love has no end. What does love look like?It looks like the tide of a sea.The way it flows in and away,Then back again.Love is a like a tide that always returns back to the shore,Because it cannot stay away for too long before it returns back to her.
I Don't Need Riches (Wealthy Spirit)I Don’t Need Riches (Wealthy Spirit) I don’t ask to drown in riches,I ask for wealth of spirit.
ClosureClosure Sometimes, closure isn’t needed.How? It just isn't. That’s how.
SeclusionSeclusion Sometimes you need seclusion to reclaim your mind.Blacken your vision and close your eyes,Plug your ears from the outside,As you fall back, back inside of “I.”And not “we,” “he,” “she,” but me.Sometimes to find myself, I must lose everyone else.
Leave Them In SpaceLeave Them In Space Stars have never roamed red carpets.
No MotionNo Motion I’m searching for stillness in time…
The Perfect DayThe Perfect DayWhat a perfect day...The wind Gently brushing my faceThe sounds of serenity all around meMy skin feels the sun's warm embraceI walk along the water's edgeAdmiring it's captive beautyThe clear blue waves crashing down at my feetBrings a feeling of Acceptance to meI feel so at peace,With clear blue skies overhead,And with this sense of pure tranquility,My mind is truly at ease and I feel more than blessedI watch the children play gleefullyTheir minds so pure and innocentAll the troubles of yesterdaySeem so easy to forget.And at least for today, I'm not in any painBecause this day has the makings of a perfect oneI can relax and enjoy the comforting scenes of this amazing day,Simply laying back and enjoying this moment; the sand and the sunAs the sun meets the horizonIn such a beautiful correlationIt was such a perfect dayBut the night was no exception.It's now after dark and this perfect day is coming to a closeAnd as I lay in my cozy bed, a
The Ink-Dark MoonThe next timeyou feel self-conscious,just remember:once a month,the moon gets out of bedwithout her face.
Train WreckWeare adisasterjust waiting tohappen; but I’m on the edge of my seat.
Today, I am DrowningSome days,the pastweighs nothing--snowflakesfloatingin a tiny glass globewaitingto be carried awayon the wind.Other days,the pastbreathes with the sea--kelptangling about my anklesbeneathturbulent waves.
Airhead (Oxymoron)Empty-headed.But so full of himself.
Circus: The FunambulanceWalking the tripwirebetween not glorifying suicideand not patronising peoplewith the lie; I would never- I suck in my nausea and fightnot to close my eyes as Ibalance -----/--vulnerable and afraidin front of my tenderhucked audience.Their eyes pluck outand give an attentivestanding ovation as I exhaleand stagger forward - a shout, a cry,a fall -and for a momentI wonder if there isa safety net there for me at all,and if my devoted audiencewould prefer to see myneck//shatter on stage.
In the interests of transparencyIt's clear to seethat I'm as fragileas glass -and every timethat you look through me;I crack up.
MissingMissing Missing someone you never really knew,It’s a difficult thing to wrap your head around.And missing the image of someone you thought was true,…Now that’s a whole different monster to ground…
ObsoleteObsoletemy mind revels in antiquity,the shadows of tomorrow.showing shaded silhouettesof the future,while phantoms paint pasts.penumbras partiallyparasol the sun.eclipse of what was,sprinkling flashes of dustand what could be.but what could've beenis nothing but a memory.and these fading reflectionsare not your grandmother's antiques.
My GrandmotherMy Grandmother (Angelic Catalyst) The heaven sent,The beautiful, the optimistic, the angelic,This is my grandmother, my Grandbomb,And she absolutely lives up to this humorous alias,
WithdrawnI paint my fingerprints red,for courage; panics coalesce,and regret stains my handshake.
Hanging SkeletonsDo not talk aboutthe skeletonshanging in your closet--bones bleachedwith wishesand mistakesare nothing to be afraid of.Prop open the doorand talk to them--you'll findthe answers you seekin their silence.
NetherThe world unfurls:becomes a gemstone, sinkinga mirror breakinga thousand splintering realitiesand I am lost —forgotten who I ever was,forgotten how to breathe.
Ingredientsletters, words,sentences,punctuation,paragraphs,may contain one or moreof the following:ideas,feelings,nonsense.
The NecklaceCliché Hallmark cardsAlways start the waterworks.Even at crowded restaurants.To know.... it's a piece,Of my Mommy JeanShaking, beaming, cryingAs that slim white gold claspclick... for the first time.A feather's weightInstantly at home on my collarbone.***Fast-forward***Hiccup-sobbingSlit-eyes red and swollenThat pendant-spot between my breastsScratched and redFrom shaking hands,Grasping for anything to ground me.Tremblingly closing that slim white gold claspclick echoing with tears***Fast-forward***Heaving my duffel up my stepsAnd down the hallway,To my last door on the rightDropping it and a gaspHands immediately undoingthe circular clasp at my neckFrantically grabbing the chain on my dresserBreathing slowing as the heavier chain,But lighter pendant comes to a restclick and my breathing becomes regularSighing as I flop into bed. Home.***Fast-forward***Sighing nervously,Self-co
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasuresfaded verses from his wife the way connoisseurssavor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.The record needle hits the groove wrong;he stumbles over words that aren’t there,rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.He doesn’t write poetry anymoreand his confusion is strangely endearing.But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,poetic lines inserted between the daily grindof character names and who said what;voiceless boys in white and draymen carting the dead to saltwater lakes,elegiac undertones that haunt historians and forlorn painters.He doesn’t write poetry anymore –except when he does.
ocean lungsyou weigh something like gravityin my tired expanse. you aresand;(my once splendid mountain)my love is the oceanthat has worn you down.with my monstrous tongue,i pulled you in.as you fall,sweeping peacefully into the depthsand filling each crevice,i am learning to inhale shores.some would say i'm suffocatingand bring me buckets of air (only to have itescape my slippery grip).no, the tides need something heavyto make of hera home.
.Your promises turnme bitter like black coffeeI crave sweeter lies
Satellitesi.i'd like to transmit to you a satellite signal and warn you thatyou're in orbit ofthe world that mistook you for another,home, where your wings were folded into scrapped paper,later overflowing with inkme, the one who you let drown in tears,for my sakeii.but dear, they're setting the sky on fire againand the satellites are as far from earth as you and iiii.i'd like to warn you that the stars don't circle theplanets anymore, and your wings are smothered in sootbut the world doesn't know your nameyou're lost among the constellations,one in too manyiv.you're in danger of crashing into anotherfly to me, the rain has not yet embraced you in the mistfall to me, the muddied soil has not yet carried youunderv.if we took a moment to realize that the sky is impossible to burnvi.i'd like to transmit to you a satellite signal and remind you that(no matter how far above earth you grace)you're never too far from home
ShellsShells Shells of hideousness conceal shattered beauty.
Shells of hideousness conceal shattered beauty.