The late January 2 p.m. sun is as follows:
- omnipresent
- ten thousand photon hands per body
- shining through souls;
> flesh has no stopping force if completely unraveled and dissolved in the sweetness of spring;
the promise.
a spring something that wafts through the still fresh year air,
the one that gets animals and humans alike frantic,
pink in patches, rhythms beating,
resonance seeking of matter against matter,
Surface vertical,
horizontal,
--Phasing--
& Finally
Upwards when we merge,
having found each other,
released in sync
into the sky;
Light
and heavy with the journey.
And then I kiss you again.
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 4:02 PM UTC
I heard it.
A human voice.
Connection established, solitude broken.
The sound of a string snapping,
(....)
I hope I was mistaken.
Silence collapsing under its own weight.
Scattered quarks and anti-quarks
shattering the perfect neutral harmony.
The remorseless swelling of matter.
Until no stillness, no Nothing remains.
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 9:48 AM UTC
If that of me which were rubbed away
got retrieved,
then
(Of course, yes,
it can't become "Me" again.)
It could at least be made mine. Arranged anew
as
"An eraser's poem"
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 5:48 AM UTC
It's as though through letting ideas slip away into nothingness
I've died countless times:
unrealised, unfulfilled, unsatisfied.
Their last scream of agony devoid of substance,
reverberates through me,
Reminding me that
I've neglected to death that which could've filled me.
I sit alone quietly watching,
An ego of sand trickles down
each grain a like on a tweet, a seen video.
Aren't they really smart? The people who make these things?
Promised to make me golden,
And I am, indeed.
Just as cold and saleable as that.
NO no,
I keep trying to claw my way out.
It's taking too long, why isn't it working?
Hands getting weaker?
Nails dulling out?
Or maybe I've never had anything sharp on myself to begin with.
The worst is that I'm not alone in this
And most of you seem content.
Living being made to obey
With grains of dopamine being thrown around
as we dance to catch each in our mouths.
Not much different from these poor animals at the circus.
Let's cut this short.
Aim big and don't expect a praise or prize soon after you start.
People aren't brands and brands aren't people.
Let's learn to enjoy the ride more than the destination.
Good luck, I believe in me,
I believe in you.
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 9:58 AM UTC
May it be quiet
May there be no light,
For May is quite tired
Tonight Last night Next night
Sleep tight,
Shall not one bird shout
What with doubt or delight
Insomnia-blue sky sounds out
May May fess up, call-self-out?
May I, Shall I, Am I?
What only a cvnt could spout
Burnt bridges, Eye melting an eye
This milk's rotten, I won't cry
Peace is all I dream about.
The birds sing, another fight
Goodnight cry out Be alright
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
It is strange to move unburdened.
Feet so light that
with each step they shoot high up to the sky,
Threatening to kick the teeth out,
or rip my thighs' tendons,
Restraint so foreign to them.
Quite curious my hands feel
released from the duty of holding me together.
Consumed by bittersweet emptiness
As they confusedly try to grasp
something, anything to hold onto or
at least the meaning of what "freedom" actually is.
So please be patient
as I stumble around in this awkward body.
You see, the me this free wasn't here for growing up
So I'm just beginning learning how to
align feeling with being
All Right
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
All my life I'd been starving.
This world offered me feasts after
Feasts but it seemed that even if
I swallowed the whole Earth
I'd still hunger.
One day a witch approached me
Promised me a magic sack,
That with the right nourishment,
Wouldn't ever empty
'Till I die.
All she asked for in return
Were descriptions of dishes.
Their taste, shape, smell, in detail.
For she can only eat
This way.
And so I complied with it, gratefully.
She casted charms, ordered me to eat:
"Just open your mouth, it's there."
Feeling groggy, I reached.
I felt it.
So marvellous, juicy, so fresh.
I praised that new found piece of flesh.
She smiled. "Dig deeper", she prompted.
So I'd broken my jaw,
Ecstatically.
Then licked the blood off my chin,
It was sweet and sour, just served.
How much further must I dig
For this feast's main course?
My beating
Heart.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 9:14 PM UTC
I've stated it right away,
At the top of the page and my lungs,
a simple guideline:
"not about love"
Obviously,
that desperate rule got broken.
And so it seems only logical that
Once it became "about love",
all words left me
after such a blatant act of betrayal.
Can't blame them, I would've left myself if I could.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC
Capture consciousnesses,
implement into
an amalgamated
substrates' soup.
Dissolve dark
pigments, promote
all-consuming oxidation
to tear
through thoughts,
seal strands
with wishes
of overcoming
indulgences, individuality.
Beauty beyond
reason resonates
with withering
minds' molds.
Shape-shift self,
melt mercifully,
pretty please.
Evaporate every
free-spirited feeling,
despised dearly.
Free from
humble humanity,
an astonishing,
extravagant, empty,
splendid shell.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC