boredom was the only monster underneath the bed at home
it creeps up so fast if you're not careful
it'll set so thick in the air
a knife can cut through it but it will not get rid of it
the **** was something she knew all along
it's the fabric in the boxes that give it an upper cut
the paint on a percaline figure that blinds its site
the recipes in a box that cut away at it slowly
the tomatoes to pick, to eventually throw at it
the colored pencils; the shank of creativity
the boredom will crawl away and bother another family
it preys on other houses
of the mom's that don't know how to get rid of it
and only flinch when they look the assassin in the eyes
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 10:09 PM UTC
somebody told him there was a silent drug dealer
who would get you hooked on the stars
that you didn't need a business suit to learn about the city lights
the ticket to the world may have been on a boat
or just a tab on your tongue
The trend setter before the trend
the punk before the tattoos
the one to say "The Ramones never made it big"
but they will always be blasting in his ears
he lived in the prime, 1980's Japan
with all neon lights that could melt your face
exploring is the temptation of Tokyo
agoraphobia being the only sin of the city
the man. the myth. the legend.
the sunglasses being the only thing catching shade
as he is the illumination
a light on a Harley that blinds the night time
and with more stories than confetti in the New York City sewers
there's no such thing of getting old
when you're only good at being young
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 9:58 PM UTC
I could live off the evergreen on a weak bet
or a whisper in a library that wasn't for me
I'll take off in the dead of night if it needed to be
without shoes or a backpack if it was necessary
the euphoria of the soil beneath my feet
and the sun feeding me all that I need
a place where the fog will never clear
but is never the symbol of gloom
the trees speak to me in code during the day
and let me know if they do make a sound when they fall
if I stay still long enough I too will be the woodlands
and the woodlands will be me
let the mushrooms grow off my back
and the spiders web between my fingers
petrichor the only fragrance I know
as I spit blossoms on the ground
I'll sit in silence and think of it all
for one thing is certain though:
the biophilia will eat you alive
but the exception is just so
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 9:51 PM UTC
the stars have aligned within my bedroom ceiling
as every potential life of mine passes before dinner time
the luck I have to be so passionate of the paint on my canvas
and the way I flip my eggs in the morning
how to understand Fibonacci's sequence in the way of the art
but also in the way of where I place my keys
do you know what it is to feel so deeply?
about the light that strikes my porcelain heart so perfectly
but also the way my plant leaves shine in the window's glow
do you know what it feels like to have it all?
every single artisans gave me it all in one touch
I'm a wicked traveler of space and time
I would live a million lives if I could
it may be a blessing, but it may be a curse
because choosing one would be the saddest of it all
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 9:41 PM UTC
some say this building had issues with the temperature anyway
but most would agree
this heat was not brought on by the typical Houston air
he walks in to the beat of the trickling chips around him
heads turn for the new, the old already know how it goes down
some get up before he sits
only to make sure their pocket linings stay
the sweat on their forehead tells it all
who has the nerve to face the boy?
an hour in of back and forth
shuffles
murmurs
eyes only on him as he moves
their mouths ajar, he bets all in without a flinch
the atmosphere is flipped within a card
an uproar of "shocked but not surprised" flows through the room
as he leaves with money in one hand, and all the cheers in the other
the room falls silent faster than the door can close
just with one phrase that slips through the crack
"the boy is in rare form tonight"
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 9:33 PM UTC
picking flower from your beard
only in my dreams.
daffodils from your eyes
intertwined around your glasses.
I make a bouquet
every night.
hoping maybe in your dreams
you're picking flowers off me too.
clutched in your hands
maybe just one.
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC
In the middle of a clearing I am greeted by the damp grass, resting with a stagnancy never known to me before. The moss growing in between my fingernails and toes, embracing my once soft figure.
Welcoming to a new home, unconsumed by modern structures, the ants caressing in my loving arms, covering each blister. The amount of days I have laid here are past recall, but far more than the spiders held in each pocket.
The trees being the only witness to my presence, slightly shading me from rays of the sun that fixate so much on my inflated epidermis. The branches and leaves hiding, protecting me from the concrete and calls.
The shades of purples, blues, and yellows on my body complement the flowers blooming around my ears. My mouth slightly ajar, a surprised expression of not knowing how loud blossoms thrive in such silence.
The bees surrounding my cranium, whispering secrets that had never been told to any other humankind. I speak only in lavender, as my native tongue was dropped along the classified path I took.
The tall grass beginning to clasp around, tying me down as if begging to never let me leave. Slowly swallowing me whole, creating a barrier around my delicate frame, shielding from each rainfall and heatwave undoubtedly to come.
My eyes melt away, not needing the perception to see the world that was so harsh to me anymore, only needing to feel the sympathy it gives me now as it helps with this inevitable transformation.
Never have I felt an immense sensation of biophilia until it welcomed me with such vigor. The ground I stepped on from birth now providing solace that I could not sought for. The gravel and dirt giving vast compassion when I was unable to ask.
I’m ****** into the land, hidden from the roars of others I once knew. My ears plugged from a name now so foreign to me, to go back to a place that I will never remember, and that will soon forget about me too.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 5:39 PM UTC
The other day I stuck my finger in the electrical socket, just to get one ounce of the spark you gave me with your touch. My finger tingled for an hour but it didn't give me my fix.
This morning I cried so hard that my room became the sea. I sailed away on my bed and promised to never go back to the person I was yesterday.
Last week I snuck up a building downtown just to have the feeling for a split second that I had made it to the top. I laid on my back and tried to grab the stars; "the most beautiful things just out of reach" you told me once.
This afternoon I went on a drive to clear my mind. On accident I turned in the wrong direction, but I wasn't opposed to going all around the globe to get to where I was going.
Last month I threw out everything in my room hoping that clearing it would do the same for my mind. I found the card you gave me years ago and slipped it under my bed. I obviously missed the purpose.
Tonight I sat outside the loneliest gas station in on earth. I watched the fluorescent lights flicker on and off. I figured it was counting the seconds it took for me to realize that you're not with me this time walking out with two slushies and a deep breath telling me not to worry.
Last year you told me that you loved me. Three words that suspended me well above cloud 9. Even when I felt my emotions could bend the universe, I didn't say it back.
Right now I'm sitting at our bench on Main st. as stardust seeps out of all the deep crevices in me and the cosmic magic of your presence becomes foreign to my body. Each car that passes by reminds me of that fragile night when ours turned the world upside down.
I stayed there, my neck askew, the ground above my head, out from the metal shell. Having no clue that your being had vanished from your own exterior. Unfamiliar faces surrounding me and caressing my bruised body, leaving yours, unloved, under the sheets.
I sit at this bench, wondering if I sit long enough, time will end and start over again, and you’ll come walking up to sit next to me, and I’ll never let you leave. I sit at this bench, reach for the stars still, trying to grab the most beautiful thing just out of reach.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:54 AM UTC
the summer that made the sound of crickets mean more than it did two, three, even ten summers ago.
the summer that gave a warm glow within the halls of that familiar seasonal cottage
the creak from each step on the stairs was each a song to be sung
out the door to find her waiting for me
My heart taking delightful punches with each step closer to me
her sundresses a different shade of yellow just as the sun
It rays peeking through the trees to compliment her lovingly
Everyday was Sunday for us
as they flow with each skip my mind slows her down
watching every detail of her grace
the summer I learned that sunsets were made for girls with brown eyes
the earth revolved only for her so the sun would descend across the sky just so right to only fall into her vision
and to remind me "this is what home feels like"
the summer I found out that the gift life had given me was the gift of her presence for seven weeks.
the beauty in her was too delicate to give away to anyone and she let me
out of all the people on this planet see what god made special about her
the way she blinked three times when perplexed, before asking to know more
listen more
learn more
how she always peeled my tangerines
because she knew i didn't like the peel to get under my nails
when she laughed tears would always stream down her face
no matter a roar or a soft chuckle
and then she would swear the optometrist sprung a leak when she got Lasik
when she was sad that that leak was easy to repair with a Jerry Seinfeld impression
The lone flickering street light on our street did not compare to her illumination at night
a glowing goddess amongst someone so meer
she was the embodiment of the sun
but summer begins to drop into fall.
as the trees started to lose green she packed to leave
and I did too
she was going back home and my home was leaving me
this girl was the ****** of my story and only at the tender age of 22
and I know my tale will never have its perfect resolution without her
that summer I found out she was the definition of my love
but to her I was just another girl in a sundress
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
The memory of your touch on the earth will remain
As you glide through the Milkyway
Watching the earth circle the sun
You are part of every sunrise
You are part of every sunset
You're up there
Between the planets
Dancing on the moon
Inhaling stardust
Exhaling love
Lounging on an asteroid,
Tapping the ash off the tip of your cigarette on the galaxy's edge
Memories in constellations
That you twirl between your fingers
Our mission was together
But you decided to leave early
The suspension of your ship caught me off guard
I was too close to the flames
It burned me deeply
But I know the stars were meant for you
You're more infinite than you have ever been
Breathing easy; my fellow space cadet
I know you're okay
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC