Enter my stasis: hands groping in the dark
Yet cannot grab nor call for help. My fingers
Are meshed by frozen teardrops, my feet do not
Trust the floor below. Such kingdom I have made,
Enough to put their walls to shame. I have everything:
Between the fortune and the fame, I stand. All the world’s
Marvels come here and do not come out. You can check out
Any time you like, a song once said, but you can never leave.
I have everything, but the single thought of you—of not
Having you—has turned them all to ice. I am married
To this arctic cathedral. I sleep beneath the sheets of satin
As cold as the hollow infinite you placed on your lips.
I do not wish to stay, but the wrist is shy at the welcome
Of a blade. At times, I would sling a sentence to the sky
To shake off sunlight from a cloud. But you would come
And tempt me with December’s air. Oh, my sweet despair,
You are the eye in the ice, the sharp drip of a frozen spike
That hangs from my ceiling. Darling, I wish to be unthawed.
A frozen kiss had sealed my lips. I cannot holler for help,
For in the land of the blind, the silent man is lonely.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 9:02 AM UTC
Wind kisses her hair, then
Her nape would sigh
A soft hello.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 8:52 AM UTC
Droplets of rain
Running down her skin.
Storms in my eyes, let loose.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 8:51 AM UTC
This morning, my hand
Caught the first drop of dew.
I think I just held your hand.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 8:49 AM UTC
When you
Can't sleep
And the night
Feels like
Bitter wax
Slowly dripping
On your morning's tongue
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC
Some nights, I would set sail
To a thousand words on paper,
And one by one, they would get lost
Beneath the rip tides of your skin.
In sentience and in sleep,
Darling, you are only as real
As the last verse I wrote
On the crumpled walls of dusk.
While the world slaughters dreamers,
I watch you, begging the moon
To drop pieces of itself on sea foam.
I am a slave to your every step.
Tucked underneath crystalline sighs,
The stars would come out to put up tents
In the corner of your eyes, their light
Guiding the way for misguided missives.
Moored to your voice, I listen
As you speak in the language of waves,
Your words undulating with my metaphors,
But stirring holocausts for the heartbroken.
But you are here, and the lines between your eyes
Get tangled up with thoughts bred by midnight.
Your hair, your hair, they tessellate and play
With the colors of honey and amber.
Perhaps, if one were to crack you open
The light of a thousand adjectives
Would come seeping out of your skin.
I am but the shadow it will cast.
And in shadows, they whisper
That dreams can get lost
In the vacancies of the night.
Every night, with you
I set sail to my words
To find them
And lure them back.
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 6:58 AM UTC
I dream of Glasgow’s neon glow,
Of splashing lights on trees and snow.
I dream of Stockholm’s wintry air,
The way its snowflakes kiss your hair.
I dream of dinners at Amsterdam:
A glass of Shiraz, some prosciutto ham.
I dream of places, somewhere far
Where sunlight’s kept inside a jar.
Where nights are long and winters reign,
And the cold, cold silence speaks your name.
Speaks your name.
Your name.
Your
Name.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC
It comes out during sunset:
Sky blushes orange,
Moon scares the sun.
It gushes out in different forms:
A bit scattered at first,
But then becomes one.
It dabs words onto paper:
Sewing syntax
On fabric fantasy.
But it leaves without warning:
It's daylight drowning
In nocturne melody.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
"To me, she's the entire ocean. To her, I'm just a puddle, ***** and lifeless."
"You should give it a try. You know, test the waters, explore the beauty of the ocean."
"The beauty of the ocean is indeed very enchanting. But if you don't know how to swim, you will drown and eventually die in the depths of its beauty."
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
I once had a dream
Though I’m not even sure if it’s a dream
I was in this forest, see
It was cold, damp, and foggy
With me was my Dahlia, dressed in white
My oh so pretty Dahlia
She was just standing right there
Far from me, and we both couldn’t move
As if time had died for the both of us
And she was shaking her head
Uncontrollably, violently, shaking her head
I knew she was crying
Wait, was she crying?
Or was she just bleeding through her eyes?
I don’t know, but there was blood all over her
Then, right in front of us was a wolf
Black fur, eyes drenched in vermillion
It—or he?—was staring at me, growling
And then, it—or he?—began to grin
I looked the wolf in the eyes
They were fiery, like windows to hell
And the wolf kept on grinning,
Its sharp teeth like demonic horns
I don’t know, but it seems like
The wolf is there physically in front of me
But its soul—or his?—was trying to **** my Dahlia
To strip her of her innocence
Not to mention her clothes
But of course, dreams are severed by waking up
And I did wake up, to the smell of decaying flesh
With dried-up blood painted all over my skin
I turned around, and there she was
My Dahlia, cold and lifeless
Like her heart
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC