entystnad - Hello Poetry

She watched the fall leaves wilt as their last form of revolution The natural human intuition is to seek warmth from loved ones and as the bones beyond flesh shiver there’s a longing for some type of comfort He felt like a child’s tiptoes in tiled floor, unexpectedly and purely The type of euphoric revelation you’d never expect It all comes as a surprise, you see, when nothing is expected of the unknown When there’s nothing to lose and everything to gain Until the heart feels too fondly then a weight on your soul leaves you breathing but demands every movement to be agonizing This blind rage, so to speak, leaves her to be bitter such as the leaves when they fall in autumn’s coming Cold, harsh, uncertain The branches on trees look like the veins of his hands before gently caressing hers A beautiful entanglement One she hopes will be covered by winters harsh dubiety

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Oct 26, 2018

Oct 26, 2018 at 9:29 PM UTC

An Apology; Reprise

She watched the fall leaves wilt as their last form of revolution The natural human intuition is to seek warmth from loved ones and as the bones beyond flesh shiver there’s a longing for some type of comfort He felt like a child’s tiptoes in tiled floor, unexpectedly and purely The type of euphoric revelation you’d never expect It all comes as a surprise, you see, when nothing is expected of the unknown When there’s nothing to lose and everything to gain Until the heart feels too fondly then a weight on your soul leaves you breathing but demands every movement to be agonizing This blind rage, so to speak, leaves her to be bitter such as the leaves when they fall in autumn’s coming Cold, harsh, uncertain The branches on trees look like the veins of his hands before gently caressing hers A beautiful entanglement One she hopes will be covered by winters harsh dubiety

12

I feel everything and nothing at once and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. There’s no facade put in place, my heart is on my sleeve and there’s only one thing to say. In eighteen years of living, death has taught me one thing. Time is precious and fickle. She is a force of uncertainty that which everyone uses for clarity, but dear there is no clarity in the unknown. At a feeble age of eleven I lost a friend who we thought we’d all grow with. At age sixteen I almost lost my own life. And finally, at age eighteen my family was told my mother may have five years left. Time is a cruel placebo effect. She waits for no one and whilst one may think the time isn’t now but maybe in the future, you have to realize there may not be a future. What happens before now doesn’t exist. It does not exist in our reality. It will never exist until it happens but then the present becomes the past. Why wait for something you want? Why say goodbye to something you don’t want to lose?

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Oct 12, 2018

Oct 12, 2018 at 12:57 AM UTC

Incoherent “I Love You’s”; An Apology

I feel everything and nothing at once and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad. There’s no facade put in place, my heart is on my sleeve and there’s only one thing to say. In eighteen years of living, death has taught me one thing. Time is precious and fickle. She is a force of uncertainty that which everyone uses for clarity, but dear there is no clarity in the unknown. At a feeble age of eleven I lost a friend who we thought we’d all grow with. At age sixteen I almost lost my own life. And finally, at age eighteen my family was told my mother may have five years left. Time is a cruel placebo effect. She waits for no one and whilst one may think the time isn’t now but maybe in the future, you have to realize there may not be a future. What happens before now doesn’t exist. It does not exist in our reality. It will never exist until it happens but then the present becomes the past. Why wait for something you want? Why say goodbye to something you don’t want to lose?

5

Today I made dinner for my family and there was a huge scurry to rush to the hospital because someone got an alarming call and I wasn’t told what it was about. But there were lots of dishes left over. Usually my grandfather is the one who does them because he thought ketchup was a viable replacement for tomato paste and my family is known for our excellent cooking. He left to the hospital before anyone else so I decided to do the dishes because they were there. My grandma noticed before she left and said I was a lot like my grandfather. I never really thought of it before but I suppose we are a lot alike. He used to be energetic and full of life before being drafted to be a medic for the military. He’s now a lot quieter but very witty. Tired all the time. Once in awhile he talks a lot and tells stories and cracks jokes. He’s the most humble person I know, too. He worked on a Spacex for NASA but you’d never know if you didn’t ask. He’s been through a lot of bad things in his life but it doesn’t /show/. If you see him he just look like an average old man but he has a very gentle soul. Even though he doesn’t seem phased he cares deeply. His natural instinct is to take care of everyone. The difference between us is he’s held on dearly to his faith. I don’t know how to do that with my god. I’m very angry and tired and want to be as gentle as him. But it touched my heart to hear that I resemble even a small light of him.

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Jul 26, 2018

Jul 26, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC

Reflections

Today I made dinner for my family and there was a huge scurry to rush to the hospital because someone got an alarming call and I wasn’t told what it was about. But there were lots of dishes left over. Usually my grandfather is the one who does them because he thought ketchup was a viable replacement for tomato paste and my family is known for our excellent cooking. He left to the hospital before anyone else so I decided to do the dishes because they were there. My grandma noticed before she left and said I was a lot like my grandfather. I never really thought of it before but I suppose we are a lot alike. He used to be energetic and full of life before being drafted to be a medic for the military. He’s now a lot quieter but very witty. Tired all the time. Once in awhile he talks a lot and tells stories and cracks jokes. He’s the most humble person I know, too. He worked on a Spacex for NASA but you’d never know if you didn’t ask. He’s been through a lot of bad things in his life but it doesn’t /show/. If you see him he just look like an average old man but he has a very gentle soul. Even though he doesn’t seem phased he cares deeply. His natural instinct is to take care of everyone. The difference between us is he’s held on dearly to his faith. I don’t know how to do that with my god. I’m very angry and tired and want to be as gentle as him. But it touched my heart to hear that I resemble even a small light of him.

8

The thing about loving and OCD is that every tree in the woods has your name carved into its bark Every attempt is misspelt perfectly in calligraphy You’re the most beautiful mistake I have made Note: Never take a nature walk again Remembering to forget you is an impossible phenomenon Like riding a bike Except I never learned how to ride a bike But I do know how to breathe Unless I think about you then suddenly my lungs collapse You were my oxygen, or a necessity if you prefer And my therapist told me getting some fresh air would be therapeutic Like riding a bike in the woods The only problem with this serenity is you took my oxygen away from me You are in everything I once breathed Not to mention I never learned how to ride a bike And every tree has your name engraved An everlasting reminder of the beauty in toxicity

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Jun 17, 2018

Jun 17, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC

OCD

The thing about loving and OCD is that every tree in the woods has your name carved into its bark Every attempt is misspelt perfectly in calligraphy You’re the most beautiful mistake I have made Note: Never take a nature walk again Remembering to forget you is an impossible phenomenon Like riding a bike Except I never learned how to ride a bike But I do know how to breathe Unless I think about you then suddenly my lungs collapse You were my oxygen, or a necessity if you prefer And my therapist told me getting some fresh air would be therapeutic Like riding a bike in the woods The only problem with this serenity is you took my oxygen away from me You are in everything I once breathed Not to mention I never learned how to ride a bike And every tree has your name engraved An everlasting reminder of the beauty in toxicity

17

The tangible entity of consciousness is fleeting Scene: A elegant party but not quite extravagant Clinking wine glasses echo through transparent walls Twenty-two hundred lulls over the city like that of a shadow This isn’t an ungodly hour nor is this a typical night It starts when She enters in a red gown that elongates her figure A pianist smirks in the corner — a grin that’s almost sinister The clinking of wine glasses abruptly stops when its replacement of grim notes fills the glass house The attendants still seem cheerful (How peculiar?) A stranger pulls her into a waltz but his eyes look hauntingly familiar Unbenounced to her, He too dances with a stranger Both on separate sides of the glass room Both dancing with the unknown Yet each pair seems to recognize some prominent feature Nostalgic for what has never been (How do you preserve a memory in reality?) Through the glass house mirrors sit in obscure angles One could see that within each reflection He and She were projected into the other room Each glance towards the mirrors posed no questions For both pairs seemed identical Now their lives may have been content in accepting this dance with a “stranger” I suppose But that was not the plan of this party For guests grew tired of sipping on Beaujolais and listening to solem tunes The pianist presented a different song, more lively yet equally eerie Their feet paced with the new rhythm which called for a spin (An act as dramatic as such was only proper for the scene) With a grand gesture She turns, finally seeing the glass barriers And for the first time that night He and She were face to face A perfect dilemma to entertain an audience In a frenzy She tried to speak “I love you” “I love you” “I love you” But each plea for affection deemed futile For the grin on His face became that of the pianist Her emotions were a downward spiral of gray shaded confusion And with a sinister laugh He (or he) smashed the glass, shredding all source of reality He was the hallucinogen and She was angry at him for making Her feel And each guest cheered “bravo” demanding an encore But this tragedy, dear friends, has come to the end She’ll never know how the stars look where he is (Is such a loss truly a loss?)

0

Jun 14, 2018

Jun 14, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC

Facade

The tangible entity of consciousness is fleeting Scene: A elegant party but not quite extravagant Clinking wine glasses echo through transparent walls Twenty-two hundred lulls over the city like that of a shadow This isn’t an ungodly hour nor is this a typical night It starts when She enters in a red gown that elongates her figure A pianist smirks in the corner — a grin that’s almost sinister The clinking of wine glasses abruptly stops when its replacement of grim notes fills the glass house The attendants still seem cheerful (How peculiar?) A stranger pulls her into a waltz but his eyes look hauntingly familiar Unbenounced to her, He too dances with a stranger Both on separate sides of the glass room Both dancing with the unknown Yet each pair seems to recognize some prominent feature Nostalgic for what has never been (How do you preserve a memory in reality?) Through the glass house mirrors sit in obscure angles One could see that within each reflection He and She were projected into the other room Each glance towards the mirrors posed no questions For both pairs seemed identical Now their lives may have been content in accepting this dance with a “stranger” I suppose But that was not the plan of this party For guests grew tired of sipping on Beaujolais and listening to solem tunes The pianist presented a different song, more lively yet equally eerie Their feet paced with the new rhythm which called for a spin (An act as dramatic as such was only proper for the scene) With a grand gesture She turns, finally seeing the glass barriers And for the first time that night He and She were face to face A perfect dilemma to entertain an audience In a frenzy She tried to speak “I love you” “I love you” “I love you” But each plea for affection deemed futile For the grin on His face became that of the pianist Her emotions were a downward spiral of gray shaded confusion And with a sinister laugh He (or he) smashed the glass, shredding all source of reality He was the hallucinogen and She was angry at him for making Her feel And each guest cheered “bravo” demanding an encore But this tragedy, dear friends, has come to the end She’ll never know how the stars look where he is (Is such a loss truly a loss?)

44

Number One: Home Your arms became the foundation for a home I took refuge in. Every lonesome night that I’d lay awake counting down the seconds until sunrise was seemingly erased by your comforting voice whispering soft lullabies; like the familiar creeks of an old home. Decorations of your soul spill out onto the coffee-stained carpets giving it that extra hint of personality. Over time those marks became less like stains and more like abstract art shown to us who are too sad to look up. I remember it all vividly, from the dazzling smile to the mole hidden underneath your left ear. Every singular detail noted has been engraved in my heart. We lay still on lazy days and I read what your lips have to say; the stories in your mind become my favorite book in our library. I lay curled in your arms through passing time feeling your old bones shift beneath the surface. You are the embodiment of a home a desperately long for because when we are forever and a day away my heart yearns for your scent and familiar dents. It battles homesickness with every passing moment we are not together. Every single last part of your body has become my safe haven in which I have come to love and cherish. My home is you.

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May 25, 2018

May 25, 2018 at 10:32 PM UTC

Four Instances I Fell in Love

Number One: Home Your arms became the foundation for a home I took refuge in. Every lonesome night that I’d lay awake counting down the seconds until sunrise was seemingly erased by your comforting voice whispering soft lullabies; like the familiar creeks of an old home. Decorations of your soul spill out onto the coffee-stained carpets giving it that extra hint of personality. Over time those marks became less like stains and more like abstract art shown to us who are too sad to look up. I remember it all vividly, from the dazzling smile to the mole hidden underneath your left ear. Every singular detail noted has been engraved in my heart. We lay still on lazy days and I read what your lips have to say; the stories in your mind become my favorite book in our library. I lay curled in your arms through passing time feeling your old bones shift beneath the surface. You are the embodiment of a home a desperately long for because when we are forever and a day away my heart yearns for your scent and familiar dents. It battles homesickness with every passing moment we are not together. Every single last part of your body has become my safe haven in which I have come to love and cherish. My home is you.

2

You brought up the past by digging up my grave And as the broken sleep tonight I’ll remember vividly the excruciating pain of your touch Like knives leaving a whisper, a secret no longer kept And I fall further and further Back to relapsing agony

0

Mar 1, 2018

Mar 1, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC

Relapse

You brought up the past by digging up my grave And as the broken sleep tonight I’ll remember vividly the excruciating pain of your touch Like knives leaving a whisper, a secret no longer kept And I fall further and further Back to relapsing agony

6

Conversing with Death herself humbled me Scene: There’s a tranquil garden in my dreams An endless array of beauty Something like a rainbow in the distance But not quite, there are a few colors missing Maybe that’s just my eyes You never notice the beauty within the fingertips of a loved one Like a scene from a Wes Anderson film Beautiful in every context created by the human emotion Mother I’m going to be alright “You’re dying” Mother I’m going to be alright A bed of amaryllis petals lay the ground to which I sleep But Death She seemed to say something like a whisper “Not today, child” Mother I’m going to be alright And passing suns illuminate my fingertips The veins of my body blue like the vast sea A never-ending scene of ethereal elegance And a steady heartbeat Mother I’m going to be alright

0

Feb 28, 2018

Feb 28, 2018 at 1:35 PM UTC

Til Death

Conversing with Death herself humbled me Scene: There’s a tranquil garden in my dreams An endless array of beauty Something like a rainbow in the distance But not quite, there are a few colors missing Maybe that’s just my eyes You never notice the beauty within the fingertips of a loved one Like a scene from a Wes Anderson film Beautiful in every context created by the human emotion Mother I’m going to be alright “You’re dying” Mother I’m going to be alright A bed of amaryllis petals lay the ground to which I sleep But Death She seemed to say something like a whisper “Not today, child” Mother I’m going to be alright And passing suns illuminate my fingertips The veins of my body blue like the vast sea A never-ending scene of ethereal elegance And a steady heartbeat Mother I’m going to be alright

23

There was a woman who sat alone Pondering whether or not she will fill anyone Would each breath she takes becomes anew to another? The glass now becomes half empty, as a pessimist would see For fulfillment is unachieved wholly by the dependant party There was a woman who sat alone Trying to morph her skin to fit the vase for his flowers An exquisite art piece made for a girl Quite younger and prettier than her “I’ll be anything” “I’ll be anyone” As long as the taste of love falls from his lips to hers But you can’t ever look past yourself, not with the way you felt There was a woman who sat alone Pondering whether or not she will fill anyone And with that a man sat next to her Glass half full Now this isn’t a story of romance, or desire Rather the pursuit of self happiness For the sun already showed itself through each others beings But together they became a galaxy We aren’t giving up until we’re free We aren’t giving up until we’re free Tis not a dream like sleep, You’re a tangible human in an endeavor to live And I, in an endeavor to live alongside you “It’s a beautiful sight to see you alive”

0

Jan 24, 2018

Jan 24, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC

Ether

There was a woman who sat alone Pondering whether or not she will fill anyone Would each breath she takes becomes anew to another? The glass now becomes half empty, as a pessimist would see For fulfillment is unachieved wholly by the dependant party There was a woman who sat alone Trying to morph her skin to fit the vase for his flowers An exquisite art piece made for a girl Quite younger and prettier than her “I’ll be anything” “I’ll be anyone” As long as the taste of love falls from his lips to hers But you can’t ever look past yourself, not with the way you felt There was a woman who sat alone Pondering whether or not she will fill anyone And with that a man sat next to her Glass half full Now this isn’t a story of romance, or desire Rather the pursuit of self happiness For the sun already showed itself through each others beings But together they became a galaxy We aren’t giving up until we’re free We aren’t giving up until we’re free Tis not a dream like sleep, You’re a tangible human in an endeavor to live And I, in an endeavor to live alongside you “It’s a beautiful sight to see you alive”

27

It was exactly a year ago today when the quantum theory became clear You and I, eons away, yet still interconnected by something Something inexplicably powerful it felt as if we were born from the same star It was tonight when I started to fall asleep on skype while you edited your music Crackling on synthetic piano voices singing melancholy dreams But it was now when you spoke words of love The only time I felt true, pure euphoria And if I thought back then, if I really believed you Maybe things would be different Your voice slowly dissipated from my memory, as did your face Nothing more than a stranger passing by with a red string attached to our fingers Empty promises long forgotten Or cared for, if you rather I know you told me to wait But for what am I waiting? For what am I pondering during sleepless nights How to forgive the abrupt abandonment? Back a year ago tonight If I would have believed you when you said you loved me Maybe moving back home wouldn’t feel like isolation, rather a new beginning But for now, if by chance We execute a correspondence on the streets of Amsterdam Memories will seem as murky as the weather Cold, harsh Maybe even unrecognizable

0

Jan 24, 2018

Jan 24, 2018 at 1:33 PM UTC

The Amount of Time it Takes to Forget a Human Face

It was exactly a year ago today when the quantum theory became clear You and I, eons away, yet still interconnected by something Something inexplicably powerful it felt as if we were born from the same star It was tonight when I started to fall asleep on skype while you edited your music Crackling on synthetic piano voices singing melancholy dreams But it was now when you spoke words of love The only time I felt true, pure euphoria And if I thought back then, if I really believed you Maybe things would be different Your voice slowly dissipated from my memory, as did your face Nothing more than a stranger passing by with a red string attached to our fingers Empty promises long forgotten Or cared for, if you rather I know you told me to wait But for what am I waiting? For what am I pondering during sleepless nights How to forgive the abrupt abandonment? Back a year ago tonight If I would have believed you when you said you loved me Maybe moving back home wouldn’t feel like isolation, rather a new beginning But for now, if by chance We execute a correspondence on the streets of Amsterdam Memories will seem as murky as the weather Cold, harsh Maybe even unrecognizable

25