Life falls away to the cracks and depths,
You can't look back and make amends.
Don't regret, live for your truth
Love and beauty is wasted on youth.
Once you open up your heart.
It keep emotions real.
Once you kiss someone you love.
Similar to the hands it plays no game.
It either accept or resist the attention.
Except the lips personally speaks.
But if willing they both can be physical.
Once you opening up your eyes.
Too many people it confesses the truth.
Who they like or refuse too?
Once you begins to see everything.
I keep waiting and waiting for something miraculous to happen
Something that would light the fireworks buried 6 feet under
But this body, holds them, keeps the lighter at bay
Repeating it’s better that way, but I’m left wondering,
If these restrictions I have laid upon myself will ever let me fly
Fly into the city I have dreaming of my whole life, the city that never sleeps
These dreams, all so childish, and I’m just a girl trying to keep up-
With the vast expectations pressured into her tiny palms bearing the cloaked truths of life yet to be lived
I have a hate and love relationship with money
I have enough of it keep me alive, but never enough to live
Or maybe greed has poisoned the nerves, clasping my brain into its dirty hands
Maybe I’ll win a lottery, that will be miraculous enough, wont it?
I keep waiting for someone, someone who’ll plant a nuclear bomb inside me
At least I will jump out of my skin, and breathe free, as my body rests in peace
But life is unfair, so are the genes
And I’m not sure if savior exists, and I’m not sure how long will I live
Money snatched my dream right out my hands, and burnt my desire to exist
I tried, to dig up the fireworks, but it let me speculating if any have,
I found them, believing I have outlived the restrictions
But when I tried to light them, their tips turned out to be wet
It’s sad really, to realize after all these years, chasing after this dream, to end up knowing fate has its own evil way of working
And I’ll never have enough money to support these dreams, nor the talent, nor the confidence to be who I really want to be.
I don't want
(to know more of)
the way seconds never cease colliding into
(something, either external or internal to)
others in a rippling shimmer of
(the consciousness, is)
moments that never possess the finality
(a divine madness of quantification.)
which we cry of to
(The Ego, who comparatively weighs)
others in re-tellings of
(self against anything not defined by)
our lives. This
(the chemical current of self-awareness,)
is a truth too often refused
(in accepting such divine madness)
from our emotional responses
(begins a spewing tornado of self deterioration)
to physical objects
(as the universe which contains self)
and our fluctuating position
(begins to fully exist.)
to them. Yet, in that
(As the universe is more fully known)
i live in a continual agony
(by constructs of the conscious self,)
which knows not the ceasing satisfaction of
(the increasingly perceived universe, which begins to outweigh)
the total fulfillment of
(constructs of self,)
a singularity of identity in space and time,
(makes existence appear impossible)
are the screams of my eternality.
for the day that we could share something new;
today disguised as yesterday arrives and speaks the truth:
I have nothing left for you.
the face turned into the haze of the sun
and in the corner of its unseeing eye
i perceived the nature
of these truths
its in that turned face
its empty gaze cast over the far distant landscape
we all seek to sate the thirst
for a sweeter wine
unleash the mystery of self
unlock the untamed within
its smooth plastic features
but some would say that only reveals that it hides all truth
in its pastel faceless features
that we all see ourselfs
in its pastel faceless features
i see all my loneliness
all my shared joys
all loves all sorrows
all my years struggling against the tide
mishap and perchance
its in that man made face
that we perceive the distance we must travel to find ourselfs
the trials we must endure to discover the truth
behind our own eyes
coiled in its depths are the answers we all seek
after all isnt it that simple
we create the troubles we seek to destroy
in its smooth plastic skin
she finds comfort
free from the fear of another's unpredictable madness
she can explore her own illusions
and that too seems sure
we destroy what we live for
on the beaches of my puddles
and in the forests between my lawn
and the kitchens back door
of my childhood home
the ages have worn away the questions
that once kept me staring off hopeful to the dawn
trying to decipher the meanings
from patterns of a gods casual breath
and so here i linger
these lifetimes later
waiting for the answers
that an inhuman human face hides
of the turned face
the barren night filled with wishes
and wishes filled with regrets
its pastel tones
haunt the night
its dark mutterings
play along the road that she bicycles on
whistling a girlhood tune
as she fades into loss
the light in her eyes gone forever
sometimes answers are the last thing we need
I said that she was hot
She looked at me strangely
I said "No, no, no not..."
"I have a boyfriend..."
That's right. I forgot
I stammered things about the weather,
and how it makes crops rot.
"That's what I meant by hot"
"Not that you aren't cute,
I just mean I don't like you.
I mean like like you"
"No, not true. I do like you.
I'm sorry. Bless you.
Here. Have some tissue"
I told myself to stop.
It was getting awkward
"Well, great party you got."
I sound like a bot.
The truth is I do like her.
I like like her a lot.
The ways I do not comprehend and will probably not 'til the end of my days
but in truth
there is this,
is a mountain of gold that unfolds like a rose
and those who are fated to live life without such
are the ones who would not know much
Nothing stands above the heavenly touch of lips upon mine
nor can wine or whiskey diminish
the lustre that lays upon each kisses finish
and should you not fall upon this way which is open to all
then you have my pity
as I watch as you fall
for what is it that is not
but a sweet kiss then forgot and only remembered
in the slumber of old men where the dreams are oft painted
with the taintings of youth.
Kissing each truth as presented tasting the fruit
getting drunk and demented by
that the lips set on fire.
And on meeting these musings
accusing myself of an understanding I lack
I go back for one more kiss
to decide if I did miss
She was in Mexico visiting her father
whom she hadn't seen in eleven years.
I was at home,
falling in love with her
about three weeks after we had begun to know one another.
She called me before she left.
I could see her on the other end of the phone,
sitting on the corner of her bed
in her half-lit room,
pondering over an open suitcase.
I spoke to her every truth I knew,
every caring thought I could think,
as fast as they could be born.
By the time she got back,
I knew I was in love,
even if I couldn't quite find the words to explain it
We had spoken once about our obsession with birds
when we were younger.
So I prowled around the day before she got back,
in the woods behind my house,
through thickets, brambles,
up the sides of leant trees,
in the remnants of abandoned nests,
for a feather
She got back from her trip,
and we sat in my car,
before the modern saloon where
I told her I love you
She said wait,
I have something for you
And she pulled out a long, brown quill.
Her cheeks florid,
beneath the thin light of the street lamps
that leaked in through the window.
and she grew redder.
Then I too produced a feather
and I saw in those eyes
something I could not possibly explain.
And even if I could,
I'm not sure I'd want to.
I have noticed that
if you look carefully
at a persons eyes the
first five seconds they
look at you, the truth of
their feelings will shine
through for an instant before
f l i c k e r i n g
(12.23am | j.g.)