there it is, my mom.
a beautiful mermaid.
always saving me in the oceans of sorrow
such a warm embrace in these cold blue waves.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 10:13 AM UTC
i need help
there's a dream that i cannot seem to reach
a certain disconnect between the imagery and the
strong emotion left behind; i cannot pinpoint
yearning for its feeling, a sentiment hiding in the dark
cold as ice, a small wicked flame resting on its center
there's a dire need for the flame that refuses to fade
my hand reaches for the tangible, it dusts away to the abstract
grasping and holding the darkness of the minute,
blind and directionless, pursuing for that fighting spirit that i cannot see
is the flame still burning?
is the absence of the wicked flame that speaks to the cold?
i cannot answer
what i want to search
i cannot reach
but i shall find it
i do not know what it entails, but i know what it feels
to find a glimpse that completes your soul but is yet
to be answered by your heart alone.
Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 2:28 PM UTC
i love to take a ****
failed to shoot miserably often times
left stain marks on the seat, previously spotless and clean
the only legacy for my next generation
Aug 27, 2020
Aug 27, 2020 at 11:30 AM UTC
a screen of talking heads
is my only friend
saves me from graces and embarrassment if you will
isolated from all the physicality and strains
of touches and public relations
important meetings and coffees on a sunny day
an obsession if you will, for my friend will never complain
against its will, allures me to seek and swim through its
narrow stretches of darker digital door, spirits abandon
gliding across murky storages and transparent baggages
lifting spirits and chasing cheap highs on low votes
shoes on sale, price tags scratching, screaming numbers
that crunch and crushes, decisions fragments validity
addiction from the punishment, enjoyment from the pains of
indulging, dipping toes to virtual shopping centers,
lively, empty, broken on a promise
Food that delivers, meat that can be eaten, gifts are ready to open
and people that cannot walk, keyboard replaces legs, making waves
paving way on to the next, madly driven beyond comprehension
clicking and pulling, scrolling bars and battery bars. percentage low.
despise it! destroy it! you cannot. A screen is all we have.
screen is all we can.
detach from reality, programmed to serve, slave from the labor
chained to the pleasures. its monotone, monochrome, but never boring.
screens can save lives
not in the way you think.
cures my desire for something human.
sad it may be
cure that actually prevents
loneliness is non-existent.
a screen of talking heads
is i guess my only friend.
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 8:02 AM UTC
let's watch stars explode together
and find meaning back and forth
as constellation cries crystals
like glitters in the night
glistening and beaming bright eyes
that prisms back to mine
so
let's throw it back together
and celebrate this feeling
of life without meaning
by looking up the sky
and commit stargazing
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 9:15 PM UTC
i love sunday
gotta love sunday
just love the sun
and the day
but nothing comes between sunny day
or sundae? am i right?
i can rest in peace
and my hands with ease
because today is sunday
today's the day
sunday it is. rest day today.
tomorrow should be sunday.
but that means today is not sunday.
so what would rather sunday be?
if sunday isn't the day of today?
so rest your mind
and touch the sky
because today's sunday.
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 2:31 AM UTC
i am unclean
i am an abomination to the eyes of the giants
i am filth
swimming in the garbage folds of creased walls and decaying blocks of matter
and endlessly crawling from the shadows of my belittling enemies
yes i am a cockroach
and i will swarm you with my teeth
and grace you with my seed
i will trace my glorious fingers and haunt you in your sleep
your rotting diamond, i will reap
and beautifully walk in the darkness with my feet
i can walk these earths alone and embrace the dark corners of this universe
walk along the soil
planted by your curse
and leave these worthless moguls
as i watch them struggle
with my limitless fugle
Jul 2, 2020
Jul 2, 2020 at 1:08 PM UTC
Vile. Directionless. Footsteps-driven.
Street light. Concrete. Clouds in pavement.
Wet. Damp. Soaked. Heavy engagement.
Transparent = (not a) cellophane.
Is the raincoat masking the pain or the pane?
Coffee. Cigarettes. Music = Touche.
Crying. Window. Wistful = Cliche.
Weather = Cool. Barometer = Full. Feeling = Fool.
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 11:51 AM UTC
ur art is the words of the hopeful
basking and bathing in pools of eternal meaningless sundries
thrashing and skulking nailing hammers and throwing axes all over ur skull least of all importances- enter the subconscious, ur mind speak, and ur mouth steep- mountains of hanging ropes and jaded hopes
ur ****** mind convoluted, cracking open that is-
and ripped that fountain of colors and burst that bleeding artistry out like an ultimate tranquil fondue dripping on that empty sockets
might be someday be someone swimming on it.
Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 8:42 AM UTC