Your eyes tell me how you really feel
The once bright stars I used to see
Are now lost in your blue eyes sea
The glowing is gone
And I know
I will never have you
The way that I used to

The wall is my punching bag
and your face is my inspiration.
Even when my knuckles sag,
there is no hesitation.

I have bruises on my fingers
but it is not the wall's fault.
It is the surge of my anger's
and they make my fists stronger.

The poison you poured in me
is overflowing the bottle.
Every punch the wall meets
is every sip of my struggle.

The pain is sinking in
and it feels worse than the bruises.
It's buried deeper within
so I dig but it refuses.

The wall is nothing
to what festers inside.
My punches do nothing
and there is nowhere to hide.

The disease is within me
and it is thriving in my mind.
The only way out is nowhere in sight.
I looked to my fists to set myself free
but my fists have no eyes
so I cannot see.

Now, my arms deserve to rest.
I'll even bid them a good night
because today won't be the worst
and I'll need them another time.

I make coffee at 3 am
and take it out to the porch
nursing the heat
between my freezing fingers

the stars smile down on me
I spell your name
like a new constellation
but I can't find you

here

I miss the feeling of your red nails coiled around my neck
It would feel like cold lightning striking my spine
My face would flush
And I was electrified

My poetry is my diary.
The trail left by my soul,
The song sung by my heart,
And the places my mind dared to explore.

a community
of soft white

extensions of
the earth

gifts for
the eyes

and the nose
maybe the

tongue

a mixture of
ingredients

water
seed
soil
light

who owns
the recipe

I don’t want
to know

those are black nights
in black days
here in africa
just in the voice of wild jungles,
I'm standing by my dry feelings
looking for the stars lights,
I have to run and run
Through the trees of dreams
out of the hell
no mercy
no death
just a great lies
in the black nights

i know you're outside my door,

waiting for someone,

you probably adore.

but these walls are too pretty,

and i can finally feel the floor.

i know that you care,

yet i dont know anything anymore.

all I have is behind that door.

it's hard to keep looking forward.

it's hard to write and not feel stupid,

it's hard to open up and not refuse it.

but I love you and I'm sorry;

for missing all your favorite holidays.

Part of life is flowing,
part of life is falling,
part of life is growing,
part of life is knowing

this goes on and on. Art as Intuition,
shared by the art itself, AI says.

Oh well, another thought just set sail

Leonora & her hyena heart
beautiful the challenge laid
in the early morning of surrealist air

with her red lips & long dark hair
touching him possessively upon his neck
this dawn was far from finished yet

& when I sang him to his sleep
crouching in the shadows deep

a tribal longing in my heart became
a new creature quite untamed
heartbreakingly forever unafraid

so I wander with my hyena heart
searching for the inn of the dawn
within her spirit is reborn
closer both to our real form

I want to scream my deepest fear
Uncover my deepest sin
Admit my wrongdoings
But the ice under me
Is very thin

The lion inside of me
Who scars the jungle
And fight an army of angry men
Can't fight the loneliness anymore
Or the sadness, deeper within
His lioness has gone
His lioness has left the den

it's cold outside, enough that i want to leave,
but she's light and dark and everything in between
and i can't see her face in my dreams
but i smell her,
cinnamon and vanilla
and her fingertips on my arm
and goosebumps raise in the wake of her touch
but i'm not cold anymore.

They say doing it all is an impossible task,
But I’ve come to find doing it sane
Is the impossible part.

I can’t leave

the fatigue
that i keep
in my brain
hidden
from the pain
that i breathe
that i bleed
as I plead
to be free


I am chained

to this bed
all the dread
that i feel
that i fear
is the sound
that i hear
as i scream
in my dreams
in my head
I am dead

when you sleep it's like you never cried,

breathing soft and steady, wet cheeks dried.



when you sleep it's like you never lost,

boundaries weren't broken and lines weren't crossed.



when you sleep it's like you're still there,

and you still smile and you still care.



when you sleep you look young as I,

no crease in your brow and no old worn sigh.



and so if sleep is death just being shy,

is it still so wrong,

to wish

to die?

When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you touch me
with your cold fingers
you might feel ,
the mornings and evenings
passed with no reason
months and years
sustained by ignorance
shredded days and nights
enveloped with a silent rhythm
at last, you would see
the myth of a my fragile
body's breathing soul!

sky, a sea;
the sun is a ship sinking
slowly
into slumber  

& i’m a seed
sleeping
on soiled sheets,

sproutless, seeking the solace

of silence,
the nascence
of night—
the delight

in drawing dreams from dust
to dusk into day
into divinity;
in withdrawing

to the wild and wondrous
womb of waking.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

You ask for my thoughts on what I see,
my opinion, mademoiselle, is you put a spell on me

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.