I am so homesick,
And for what home?
Sick of trying to find the way
To where? To who?
And I think the idea of home
Is keeping my soul at bay
From turning blue
Or from falling into the abyss
Because I am so homesick,
Yet home is an illusion
A lover's rotten hope
For a pleasant eternal rest
Mar 1, 2024
Mar 1, 2024 at 10:32 AM UTC
You don't know how much
I am willing to surrender
just to give you even an ounce
of hope
and sunshine that I have
I can't wait to see you
genuinely happy,
in solitude,
in the company of others,
in the mundane
My tuahine, I love you.
I do not know how to tell you,
but your existence
makes my world
a little more bearable
Jul 19, 2022
Jul 19, 2022 at 12:22 PM UTC
pleasantly bothered,
with ***** came a violent lust,
honeysuckle, you suckled me
thunders struck as bodies aligned,
tongues entwined
I rocked with your rhythm,
your fingers had me opening up
like I was among the Primroses
you stroked at night
drunken eyes, gasping mouths
savage, reluctant, insatiable
you are, while I was, and still am
bewildered, dazed, but unfazed.
with the intoxication of spirits,
came a heavenly sin
Jun 21, 2022
Jun 21, 2022 at 11:27 AM UTC
to feel a year younger
in an hour,
to have my face filled with
the crescents,
the creases,
these laugh lines
that I never thought
I'd ever see again
to be a year younger
in an hour,
with someone
a year younger than me,
is quite dangerous,
but nevertheless,
the fire of a Jupiterian
never says no to death
Nov 30, 2021
Nov 30, 2021 at 7:25 PM UTC
I wish you hit me.
On the face, on the arm, on my ribs,
whether it was a punch or a kick,
it did not matter.
I wish you hit me,
it would have been much easier
to show the people and your friends
the greens, the violets, the reds.
But you didn't.
Instead you used your mouth,
oh, and the sweet and bitter words,
beautiful, crazy, too much.
I bet it was easier to whisper poison
onto my ears and my head,
than to drag me out of your apartment,
and show the world who you truly are.
And now I am left with an invisible battle
that haven't even scarred yet.
And nobody knows,
nobody sees.
The greens, the violets, the reds,
the rotting, the foul smell,
of my decaying heart and soul,
eating off of your love and lies.
I wish you hit me instead.
So it was easier for the world to believe,
and easy for me to believe,
that you were the monster and not me.
Nov 9, 2021
Nov 9, 2021 at 9:43 AM UTC
I feel death being so close,
and yet I feel nothing.
Just mere, pure, and plain
nothingness.
I never thought that
I would wish it was death
that I felt and touched,
instead of nothingness.
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 9:57 AM UTC
To the rainwashed man,
no sun nor daylight came,
but Scarlet appeared
in red lips and red locks.
An angel in the fire
with heaven in her eyes,
an ethereal sight
that made him alive.
And she became his.
His gold sunlit dancer,
the fire in his *****
the every ache of his heart
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 9:37 AM UTC
I know you practice your li[n]es,
you say, "make-up is not my thing,"
but put on layers of yellow paint
to hide the grays and blacks.
Oh how good you are,
how good of a liar you are,
to convince you and me,
that you are fine.
But sister, do you understand?
We are made of the same blood.
You will not hide from me,
no more running.
You can come undone to me,
and if you let me (please let me),
I'll be the one who'll hold off the rope,
help you become unbound.
Sister, I am here,
you can escape with me.
And I'll wait for that sunny Sunday morning,
when you're ready to be happy.
Oct 17, 2021
Oct 17, 2021 at 11:12 AM UTC
The glamour,
the lights and flashes,
the gold and the silver,
I call it home.
Crowds filling the seats,
then the shushing,
then the quiet,
and it starts.
They watch and follow,
little prying eyes,
where your feet goes,
where your fingers glide.
After all,
I'm a performer,
and this is the stage
that I call home.
But who stays
after the velvet curtain call.
When the show is done,
who remembers?
And what is remembered?
Aside from the weary bones,
broken ribs,
and flailing arms.
Who stays?
To sit on the red seats,
in the dark,
to watch a wretched performer?
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 12:50 PM UTC
For you, who is yet to come,
whom I exist for,
and would die for,
The other half of the tango,
whom I'd dance with,
and hum my songs to,
My adventure and haven,
who'd bring me to mountain peaks,
and ocean depths,
For you, who I can't seem to find,
my sweet love,
I ache to know,
How your caress feels,
the fire it brings to my *****
the high and heaven it sends me
For you, who is yet to come,
in the quiet and the triumph,
in the chaos and the spring,
My most prized beloved,
your gold sunlit dancer
is waiting for you.
Sep 10, 2021
Sep 10, 2021 at 6:24 AM UTC