Have me when I am most free
The state which all minds dare wander
And not think of itself as unwanted
But a tranquil traveler of solitary.
To be wanted means to fear
of change, of the world's uncertainty,
to be unafraid was an ultimate form of purity.
I am myself,
I am us,
us, but all about our own reflection.
When we rip those fruit out we may
help each other but when we
taste that swelling flesh,
one to one's own pleasure.
I am not to please you more
than you please me
and you shall see yourself
as separated.
So be excited,
If sometimes I send you a letter
or strip out of my usual habitat,
the extreme independency
tear some curtain down,
While remarking,
"For your eyes only."
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 3:37 AM UTC
trigger warning: suicide
"Come downstairs, Billy. We got your outfit and your plushie. We got your little bag too, honey. So come quick."
“I have a cold, mommy. I don’t want to go to church"
"Father and praying will fix you, Billy!"
Not true, he said, I pray and pray,
but the illness gets worse
And people shouted every time they spoke.
go to church
go to the clinic
go and fix, Billy.
So Billy moved his feet like walking down the stair.
Short, steady and away from the chair.
Billy went up, instead, as the church bell rang.
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC
Let me say, I wonder if the clock ticks slow
Or we have lost track of the pace
I thought the time has traveled far
or did we accidentally race?
Why rush and bore audiences
just to quickly end the show?
Let the play goes on, and not so fast
I have not seen any drama
with a peak too soon,
that also for a long time lasts
Such greats actors, with skills hard to mimic
nevertheless, ****** sicken their admirers,
all started well received, yet repeated
quite the same errors
so keep your poetic rhythm,
And your wonderful confidence, but, never
too eager to show that you're an energetic player
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 7:18 AM UTC
To bed with a Satan´s monster under,
From head to toe with a blanket covered
And tangible limbs neatly folded
Lest your hand gently he holds
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
You talk lots about Love
But what does it look like?
As pretty as you,
Or as kind?
***
Like the painting in the mirror
In your favorite nightclub
Like the unrobed reflection
In your morning bathtub
Raw, unreservedly charming
Like the towel, clung to your waist
That while you walked to the bed, sliding
Like the heavenly lips of yours
That parted when pleased, singing
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 12:30 PM UTC
Tomorrow after tomorrow,
Chase away melancholy,
Let us see there is a day that follows.
Where we either be a giver or one that spends,
Either lend love or be one that borrows.
Wait for the new morning just to say, to-day,
And hopefully to-morrow,
Hoping to sing no more of sorrow.
Some stopped chanting rhyming sadness, no doubt
Or joy, or resentment.
Notice they did not sing since everything went static.
Only the lonely and sickening wind -
Made the whining music.
The only time birds sing only of rejoicing,
And not torment, neither a word 'bout losing,
Is when they don't sing at all.
Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 12:21 PM UTC