Coffee stains,
the same way the dark bruise she left on your body does.
They both leave a story.
One of the stories being a " I was in a rush coffee spill" and
the other story being a, " I loved her too much bruise".
Inevitably they fade over time,
but that doesn't mean that they weren't once there.
She wanted you to know that her love for you was imported from
another person's heart,
but you never knew this or, that the other
person's heart was mine.
But like I said things fade over time.
However,
I still wore the bracelets I'd strung together with
all the words you've ever said to me for quite some time,
that's why I still remembered them.
You will only ever talk about the dark bruises
she left on your body but, never the ones she left
on your heart.
Your emotions,
hidden like the barnacles that hide below the boats
of this beach town.
The salt water seeps through your skin;
it stings you with solitude.
Because now you are alone, because
her false love for you is gone and,
I don't miss you either,
the bracelets fell off.
When the coffee spills its hot and,
I know sometimes the sea stings and
if you're lucky your heart will heal.
But,
I can't I feel bad seeing you get a taste of your own medicine.
You holler out "I love you";
you wait for a response,
and
all you get is silence.
How can U N I be so utterly different and yet simultaneously without you I just do not feel whole.
I can't see the pictures in my mind, but even still these memories, our memories are burned within my soul.
It amazes me how U N I can be our own worst enemies, kindred spirits, complete rivals and passionate lovers all at the same time.
This game of love in itself can be endearing and fulfilling and also unrelenting and unyielding , but in the end it is always worth the climb.
I often wonder if U N I will withstand the tests of time, if our force can weather even the most severe storm.
Seclusion wrapped in duality conjoined to both perfect and destroy one another, endlessly locked in a battle which wages war against the norm.
Oh,
You say you could use a love like mine?
Darling,
I've been waiting for someone like you
For too long.
He smelt like smoke
as he leaned away from me,
texting himself with my phone.
We left the campfire outside,
in our shoes by the door
our socks overlapped in a tangle of limbs.
In that leftover guest room,
on the bottom bunk of the microwaved bed,
I remembered why I thought I knew what love was.
He was tired and needed a nap,
I was restless and cold.
Trapped inside because of violent temperate rainstorms.
This boy owed me stubbed toes,
thorn pricks through my jeans,
nicknames and rubber soles.
This was the boy who had always smelt of smoke,
who knocked over dead trees for me,
who lied about being able to rock climb.
This was the boy who went swimming in the ocean
before summer had properly began
when it was still much too chilly.
I taught him a new card game,
he beat me at badminton.
We played capture the flag and threw pinecones.
We sold cookies on the side of the road,
ate dusty blackberries,
traded innuendos and bad jokes.
This was sea-urchin boy,
slug boy,
the boy with the bird's nest hair.
This boy grew taller,
dropped his voice like a used bus pass,
looked past the top of my head.
He laughed when i stepped in a mud puddle,
dared me to walk in bare feet.
This boy suddenly went mountain biking.
I talked extra loud, in hopes that he would overhear me,
offered him rootbeer straight from the can.
Ate pretzels and learned to read his mind.
We shared our childhoods like penny candies,
switching all the peach ones for strawberry.
we agreed these are the best years of our lives.
He layed beside me, underneath as many covers as we could find,
taking up too much space and he knew it.
my cartoon boy.
My hand-drawn boy,
With smoke coming out of his ears
moved away.
We didn't talk again
No lullaby tonight
Only my lips to cradle you to sleep
Keeping such whispers as I press them on your cheek
Unleashing them all as I make contact
Fade to sleep, my love
Saunter into such honey-like dreams
Leave this plain with tears all dried
Walk with me in these boundless worlds
Find me in the confines of mind and heart
And see my love for you transcends all
Only few miles apart,
Its been a couple days,
Since I have seen your face,
All I can do is imagine it,.
I miss you to where my stomach hurts,
My heart skips a beat whenever I see a car like yours drive past,
Thinking constantly about your embrace,
The way you kiss my face,
You always tell me I am beautiful,
You say i'm your angel,
I miss your voice,
I miss gazing into your eyes,
Deep and blue,
My eyes are brown,
Not as perfect as yours but they see you so clearly,
I feel home sick even though i'm under the roof of where I live,
I am at complete comfort when you cuddle up to me,
I love the way you look at me,
You touch me so sensitively,
Almost as if you're afraid I will break,
Although you say my heart is strong,
I gave it to you,
Which is why it is that way,
You held it together with care and love,
I feel sick without you.
What if
Your life is just a work of art
A masterpiece painted
By some big brain
With double-folding sentience?
Do you ever consider
The beauty of the detail(s)?
What if that weird coincidence
That happened today
Really wasn't a coincidence at all?
What if there are no coincidences?
What if when we go to sleep
Our brainwaves change
Because our minds go elsewhere
And it's best we just forget
When we wake?
What if reincarnation is real
And just at a universal scale?
What if life didn't originate on Earth?
What if there's something huge about
Deoxyribonucleic Acid
That we don't yet understand?
What if everything is a computer simulation
And everything above the first dimension
Is just a folded-up illusion?
What if we're not the only ones out there?
What if one time
At some random point
Along your vision's axis
You stared right at a planet
That harbored life?
Or even a star system?
What if religion and science collapsed in
On each other?
And what does this whole Eye business
Really mean?
What if the multiverse
Is more connected
Than we ever imagined?
What if God is a number? (a chuckle)
What if God is all the numbers
And combinations of them
And transmutations
And possible functions
And every algorithm
Every discordance and solution?
What if fate and free will
Don't really hate each other,
And it's just a game they play?
What if, just as we imagine characters,
Scenes and fiction
And paint them with words, sounds, and pigments
Our lives and interactions
Are painted by some society of higher beings,
In some fractalesque twist?
What if perception and emotional value
Are just the icing on the cake
And they are what makes life more
Than numbers and figures?
What if art
Is more than human?
What if the magical spells we once dreamed of
Have become our reality-
Songs, pictures, symbols flashed on the TV...
What if it really is like good guys vs. bad guys
And it's all just whispered above your head
Just within earshot?
What if it's not so black and white
And our only true villain
Is the stupidity of the mob?
What if it's somewhere between
Like it usually is?
What if we were always happy
Or always sad?
Would there really be a difference?
What if you could escape the circular nature
Of everything?
What would you see, looking down?
What if every system is circular
Because they're all gears
In some big surreal machine?
What if you're dreaming?
Wake up!
Nope, still here.
What if you're not dreaming at all
And it's really just that strange?
What if everything that could happen
Did happen,
And you are only allowed to see one of each?
What if the laws of physics
Are only so set in stone
In this universe
But there are others that vary?
What if the speed of light
Is the universal speed of time?
What if I'm actually dead
And this is just a virtual world
And I'm living through a computer?
What if reality is a very complicated computation?
What if I woke up as someone else tomorrow morning?
Would I even realize it?
What if one of my poems caused two people to meet
and fall in love? that'd be cool
What if one of my poems accidentally somehow set off
A chain of events that killed someone? that's weird and sad
What if gravity were as strong as magnetism
Or the other forces?
We'd surely have no planes
And getting up in the morning would suck even more
What if for once you were grateful and happy to wake up in the morning?
Ooh, got you with a tinge of guilt din't I?
What if the whole thing was a joke and no one likes getting up after a nice rest?
What if looks didn't affect judgment so much?
What if this is your very last breath?
If so, look out-
What if my imagination didn't have a bottom?
What if the act of believing in something
Made it true?
What if my red was your blue?
What if you could see tenfold more colors then most humans
Because you had an extra type of cone in your gene code?
What if the very fundamentals of science you were taught in school
Were mass-spread so no one could know how strange the universe really is?
What if the moon landing was fake?
What if conspiracies don't really affect you that much in the end?
What if there was an underlying pattern of questions and statements
Following a free-flowing logical train here?
What if it just crashed?
What if when the light went off on your webcam
That didn't mean it was inactive?
What if you had something to hide?
What if they're out to get you?
What if they're everywhere?
What if it's way over your head
And it's time to get out of the house?
What if Uncle Ben never got shot?
What if Tony Stark is just a friggen' badass genius dude wonder?
What if some levity never hurt anyone, but what if it did?
What if some guy was telling a joke, not paying attention
And he fell and broke his left arm?
I bet it's happened on numerous occasions.
And statistically, probably more if you change it to 'right'!
What if you didn't help that old lady cross the street?
What if the old lady never crossed the street
And she just sat there forever like a lost puppy
Doesn't it just make you want to cry?
What if you were sitting on that thing you're looking for the whole time?
What if your life is a TV show
It's all staged, Truman!
What if I'm not real
And a secret artificial intelligence project
Wrote this to test how convincing it is?
I promise I'm not but you have no way of knowing!
What if some of you start to suspect me of being a robot?
What if in some ironic twist of fate that made someone crazy obsessive about it
And writing it led to my very death?
What if I'm just here for the ride
And I don't have time to worry about things like that?
My eyes are getting heavy...
As much as they tell me
I need to focus.
I need to concentrate...
And leave the la-la-land dreamscape
Of my head,
I'm proud to even
I m a g i n e.
Stick a lolipop
into the mouth of moments
your life is a child
and somewhere in there
you give a flying fuck
about the moon
and no it's not cheese.
That mouth knows what dirt tastes like
but that wont stop me from pouring caramel
and cigarettes over it.
I need a fix
of candied dirt
and addiction.
I'm not afraid of the eclipse
because I'm already addicted to the dark.
So lock the door
&
draw the curtains
&
be content.
The tide wont be knocking
no matter how much you
want it to fill the room
or how big is your sweet tooth
because
hunger
is BIGGER
and eventually
anything will do.
So thank the moon we were wearing seat belts.
Otherwise we might be vegetables
eating only exhaust
like Hiroshima
force fed the sun
because
you only make war on an empty stomach
or with an insatiable hunger.
Be content
for the civilians and thier children
who only know the taste of war.
Idiot flavored idiots with a hint of
dead mothers
that will bore a cavity so big
it'll put holes in the head
of kindergardens everywhere.
Who write their valentines on bombs.
Who's love murders buildings,
topples families,
plowing through bodies on city streets all to reach
nobody.
Be content
for the people
who aren't
you because when parents fucking in a box
you call a country means
you don't care
you put genocide on the menu
and there are some things that just wont do.
As I grow weary of rivaling chefs pointing fingers
in circles forever
becoming a porthole to the murder business
becoming the unsuspecting manhole for
the human animal's existence
in crossing.
The dead mothers would find safe shelter in the sewer
but it stinks of shit and dead bodies
like our prepackaged liberty
express delivery
to
every where.
Be content.
Because to start a revolution means living it
and what better way,
to cripple a reckless pace
that finishes first in hunger,
starting fist fights with other people's lives
and forgets even sooner,
than
to
be
content.
all these thoughts locked inside
my mind its such a terrible place
oh my, what a mess
and I can never fix it up
it gets messier everyday
there is nothing I can do
it's hot as hell
hell is in my head
and I show you a little bit
of my very own hell
everyday.
It's kinda funny
how much love I have
storming through my hell
Its the sweat and tears
That blend the years
And end in undying bliss
Its the love and pain
All the feelings you gain
From doing something you miss
It fuels
It drives
It keeps you alive
My love
My love
Its just
This
