between deep heartbreak & restored landscapes,
finding it harder to recover
from these countless mistakes.
Caught in an intervening space.
These trembling hands
render all actions unsteady,
as the sky's rhythmic showers
descend hypnotically heavy.
Caught in an intervening space.
Those bacchanalian nights
were juxtapositional emotion,
poured in guilt and wine
now memory's remotion.
Caught in an intervening space..
I thought I'd never stop missing you.
I thought the echo of your voice would never stop in my head
That the words I love you
Would forever ring in my ears.
I thought I'd never get over the way your hands felt on me
the trailing of your fingers on my lips
their dance around my collarbone
and the way they dragged over my rib cage
leaving a trail every inch of the way.
I was sure that I'd never forget the constellation of freckles along your back
and the one behind your left ear
how beautiful they were
how they never bothered me
and how I loved them even though you didn't.
I knew I'd never forget the color of your eyes
so chocolatey brown
with a hint of green
and a splash of orange.
I thought I'd never stop missing you.
But the echo of your voice has since turned into a whisper
I've found myself unable remember what your laugh sounds like
and I find it annoying when I hear someone call someone Angel.
I've slowly gotten over the way your hands felt on me
and I've come to realize
how rough the skin on your fingers was
and how the trails you've left are just scars I want to cover up.
I'm not sure where your freckles are
I think there is one behind your right ear
and on your stomach
and maybe a few on your shoulder
but I always found them messy and annoying.
I don't know what color your eyes are
you have blonde hair so I'm guessing blue?
I guess I've just stopped missing you.
ruby laid back into the scalding water
exhaled as she frowned at the wet remains
of what once was the most perfectly rolled joint
with well over an inch left
she'd set it too close to the edge
she watched it in slow motion
as it fell into the water
great, she thought sifting it out with her fingers
laying it more carefully onto the gray porcelain
a small puddle now forming around it
it will be days til it's dry enough to smoke
but she does like the transparency of the wet paper
and can imagine the crunchy skin glowing again
she's made the water unbearably hot
she slides down
until her head is under the water
thoughts flash by
too quickly to answer
one after the other
she wonders if she can still breathe underwater
like she did when she was a kid
a real mermaid
she knew she was one
images of the suns slow rising on the lone bay she drove to at seventeen
smoking a joint down pch at four thirty am
the waves drowning out everything bad in her world
she thinks about music
and her first boyfriend in seventh grade
he was a beautiful black haired
blue eyed boy of well over six feet
a lanky punk rock
who sweetly held her hand through the halls
and kissed her using tongue
she had once carved his name in her arm
he died of a heroin overdose at 18
what sound her brother's breath made
as it was escaping his lungs
as the truck crashed into him
she thinks of the billions of stars
the atoms in the universe
she thinks how easily we become dust
she thought of all the ways she's absorbed love out of the world
she pulls her head out of the water
black curls cling to her shoulders
she feels faint
slowly ruby stands
in the rooms candlelight glow
she catches glimpse of her body within the mirror
heavy swirls of steam rise off of her wet skin
she inhales deeply and wraps a towel
round her shoulders
and finally steps out of the bath
and I guess I still wonder if your mom still asks about me, (but I know she does because I saw her at the store and she commented on how my hair was longer and you haven't been the same since I left) and you'll wonder if I still stay up all night drinking tea that has long gone cold and playing my favorite sad song on repeat, but I guess we both know that I do. And you'll remember the first night I said I loved you in the stale air of your car that only the silence that comes after a huge fight can create and I'll remember how your lips did more damage on my skin than a bottle of whiskey and drunken flirtation with razor blades ever did.
the simplicity of losing myself the way I lost so many of my bobby pins in your car (and theyre probably still under the passenger seat)
the irony that you're driving across the country listening to the cd that I made you trying to forget about the girl who broke your heart only to realize you've been carrying me with you like that dollar and forty six cents in your pocket. (and I don't mean those bobby pins, although I'm sure a strand of my hair is still knotted in their metal arms). I'm still there because those are my initials that are scarred into the skin on your left thigh and you can't really drive away from someone if they're etched into your pores (much like the scent of you still lingers in mine).
You write depressing poetry you lay in your bed for hours wasting time rocking yourself back and forth with tears streaming down your face and you cry until you can't you stare at the ceiling and you go crazy you want to scream and punch things you want to hold a gun to your head and pull the trigger you want to die you want to hurt them but you want to hold and love them at the same time you want to shout you want to throw things you ignore it and you don't ignore it you sink into your darkness and let it consume you you burn because that's all you have left to do you burn with each memory and laugh as it sears your skin and fire rips through your veins and your heart thuds in your chest and you can't breathe. I don't know I don't know because that's all I know how to do I can't tell you how to stop loving someone or how to heal from your sadness because I'm still searching for that answer myself.
Why can't I speak when I have so much to tell?
Why can't I write when I have so much in mind?
Why can't I sing when there's...music in my heart?
Why can't I dance when there's rythme in the air?
Too many words left unspoken
Too many things left undone
Why can't it be and why can't I?
For all I know this pain deep inside
Took the gladness from my heart.
Is this the pain of missing you?
Is this the reason behind it all?
Hear the agony of my heart
Longing for you and for your touch
Feeling your lips, feeling your face
Missing your chatting and too many sweet fights...
When will the waiting ever be over?
For as long as were apart I can never be whole
Oh! My Dearest Love
I just want you to know
That my heart is aching because
"I'M MISSING YOU!"..
Here I lay
Oscillating around the milky way
Into a colourful display
Of swirling rainbow fireworks
Surrounded on both sides
By soft warm palettes
Peach apricot hues
On my left
A firefly's faint glowing light
Almost fading, one could tell
Like a bowl
Of hot creamy soup
On a frosty winter night
Emptied so quickly
But relished throughout
Of velvety warmth within
On my right
A goldfish's glistening scales
Almost blinds my sight
Its stunning beauty insulted
By the inverted dome-shaped
Of a bowl
By the ephemeral allure
Of love, and of us
By the ruse of creatures
Who corner us
With towering walls of Time
Using help from the impartial
Law of Equality
"You have revelled
in your joy,"
A voice from behind booms
"Now it's time
to pay the price."
beauty, represented by the goldfish, is bound by time.
...and sometimes it seems as if the troubles we go through are but payments for the happiness we previously received.
In the moments that are waiting, crisply, to break into floods of
daytime-issues of deadlines and dirty dishes,
In the moments where procrastination is a smile and a fine lie nestled
tight between hope and reluctance
this will happen:
thoughts of warmth, glory and wisdom will flutter
through your spirit- rare beasts, jeweled fruit-flies
waiting to be caught, just as long
10 minutes left
you struggle to hold to you
hours of wonder, days of mirth
all felt that one September night, when the rice had warmed your belly
and softened your eyes
and the sky was kinder reflected in the city drains
because at that particular hour at hand, they were rivers of a foreign land
saturated with dreams and magics-transmuted by the rains.
6 minutes left
caught the last train
home waited behind a line of tired women without eyes
they were trees maybe
or rushes by the river whispering of a home before a
home before this one,
some ancient stony place of arches and pools
i don't quite know
as the tracks beating under made them hard to hear.
4 minutes left- does thought really
cross at 'the speed of god'?
Such lines from plays by beloved men haunt one at the strangest times.
Thus, inspiration once struck, dims.
Thus, the end of the page approaches.
"Thus." cruelly, super-ego laughs.
Thus, work begins.
Through out the years, humans evolve to something better,
Someone among us will eventually tap even further...
Beyond all that is normal to a human body will change,
Look deeper and from beneath one's able to reach something out of range...
The sense of sight where we see the physical world and all its beauty,
Sometimes became a curse for all their lives, they only seen all that is ugly
We make use of our eyes to see things with appreciation before judging clearly,
That in our minds will be etched, painted picture of the meaning of all things we see...
The sense of hearing where we listen to the world and all that surrounds us,
That is sometimes dreadful where only what one hears are all other's lies
For the world whispers the truth more often than the lies being constantly yelled,
Schemes and plots are the same, only gets worst when being told not asked from what is being said...
The sense of smell and taste where we scent and savour the world's natural resources
The smell of the polluted air that's killing the environment that ends the life of withering trees and roses.
The taste of the food we eat everyday, so satisfying keeps us alive keeps us going,
Only that everyday is a slaughter, and the belly became a graveyard just in order to survive to end the craving...
The sense of touch where we feel the world with our flesh and bones to communicate,
The lust that the body craves is the strongest feeling that makes us grow and replicate,
Where the saddest form is pain which one feels from all the torments and torture,
A reminder that the world is unfair full of tyranny causing' all kinds of terror!!!
The sixth sense where we see the beyond of what this world have left behind...
We see things we don't understand yet some see them clearly the ghost where they stand,
The ability to communicate with the dead... An astral projection,
ones who have crossed the realm of the other world...A misconception ,
that it change faith and beliefs that changes life how it cycles and revolves...
The seventh sense... It is said that one who are able to tap and awakens it, can see the world's future,
The ability that one can bend time and space, a walk through time that changes the course of nature...
Flashing forward centuries and back again, To witness and prevent changes of things that might happen
Playing God became a taboo even before the beginning, so what's the message? For all this ability one is having?
Is God speaking to ask providing us potentials, a chance to see the world through his eyes?
How are we going to make use of the free will he bestowed unto us to see no more lies!
Only the truth that disrupts the balance mankind has made! Like rules a government planned
Or it will remain a mystery that only God knows and understand... The questions that are in our minds...