When morning comes
I want to see you next to me
I want to watch the whispers of dawn
As they wave away the night sky
The semblance of hope as the sun rises
Your arms around my waist
In a kind embrace
Portraying the artistry of illusion
But illusion works
The pseudo nemesis
The fracture of earth
Faults rubbing against each other
Earthquakes that construct
When morning comes
I want to see you next to me
I want to watch your first smile
As they wave away night's pain
Your legs around my ankles
The hair on my skin rises
Attracted ions of energy
Depicting our chemistry
Formulas that can't be written
In equations and laws
Newton's laws disavowed
And Einstein weeps
My science is you
And you are my Armageddon
The end of everything I've striven to achieve
But when morning comes
Will my past hours dictate
Your existence?
Will my soul fall into harmony
With your sensuality?
Morning inevitably comes
And I am never ready.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 4:14 AM UTC
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is.
When the touch of my fingertips
glance your decadent lips.
It urges within me an impatient surge.
The ardent flower that blooms at night,
under stars that shine harder to breathe the seductive aroma.
The galaxy shrinks, as to ensure its reach within the celestial skies,
forgetting their physics.
But if you dismember the limbs with which my love feels,
my love will retract within itself, like the turtle fearing the chaos outside its shell.
And if you deny me the reciprocity of my heart's most passionate story.
I will close the chapter and publish as is.
Yet, in my winter's tale, as frozen tears of sky lament their cause,
I shall give comfort from my fires.
Warming each breath of wind, as they gasp for substance.
My atmosphere will be enriched from my most enlightened flame.
And your ice will become my neccesity, a most welcome oasis in the desert.
But if you fuel my flame, if my desires entwine with yours, spiraling with themselves intuitively,
the wildfires would capture intensity in its most primal form.
My love becomes a slave to your divinity, a temple to your goddess,
wading through blasphemy, accomplishing rapture.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
I give up
Not from the essences that overpower me
But through the power of my essence
The closeness of my distance
At arm's length but with the touch of my fingertips
Celebrating the wake
Lamenting the birth
Bittersweetness
Lingering odors of love
Shimmering darkness through poignant light
Songs of terror
Howls of joy
I give up
Not from the whispers of the night
But with the deafening of silence
As I jump through those hoops
Your disappointed stare
My blissful ignorance
I struggle against your expectations
But no more
My peace is my own
And I own it fully
No more will I try for you
I will not try to live down to your lofty descent
I reside on my mountaintop
My fortress of solitude
I scowl derisively at the rest of you
I cannot be saved
So give it up.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 3:47 AM UTC
To know who I am
is to dive into the chasms
of contradiction,
the dark myriad of hollowed depths
wrapping you in a pall of wretchedness.
Fires burn and rain slices;
little knives of unintended intentions,
howls of agony and triumph, as one.
Discernment, lost in disarray,
a slow wave of dread,
washes bright beaches of jubilation;
an aesthetic diamond, yet flawed.
Clouds of sun and suns of clouds,
no shade from the heat.
Branches from trees whip,
as Mother Nature scolds her rebellious son.
He must be made an example of.
Yet gaze upon him!
How hurricanes bellow within!
Yet, peace resides as his countenance,
a squatter not to be disturbed.
He wears the dull stare
of him who dares not deign
to show himself to others.
He prefers to remain in the dark,
and darkness is his home.
Hidden, like the starry sky
behind a wall of clouds.
But, perhaps, in varied spaces,
it would be fortuitous
to glance on the constellations
as they breach the forts of night.
Few and far between
are his manifestations of emotion,
like peace on our downtrodden earth.
Imperceptible, like God's presence to a sinner;
unavoidable, like temptation to a saint;
unable to be ignored,
yet blissful in ignorance;
eyes that never make a home,
yet inviting to all guests;
ears that never listen,
yet decipher all unspoken words;
heart that is permanently broken,
but with carved pieces in cages distributed to all;
a stomach that's never full,
yet never starves;
a mouth that speaks in common tongues,
with his song only heard by uncommon trust;
a full hand of friends,
but a whole universe of enemies,
separated by manmade canyons.
Who is he?
One that acts without thinking,
but thinking is his only act..
One that gives without having,
but gives all he has.
One that gladly bears your cross
while shouldering his own.
One that lives to make an impact
yet vanishes without a trace.
I am what I've always been.
The silent struggle behind the scenes;
the little glimmer beyond the veil;
the one that chooses to feel nothing,
only because, separately and all at once,
I feel everything.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
my most common pain;
the tear in eye;
when I get overtaken by emotions;
I can't describe;
everything seems so far off;
the peace of mind so slovenly cast;
the ire of self;
the music of my soul;
overwhelms everything else;
the clash of instruments;
symbols of my thoughts;
the large bonfire of passion;
that can't be tamed;
the love I feel for my breeze;
that can never be fulfilled;
the loneliness;
but...like with all things;
endings create new beginnings;
but I feel like;
I end everyday;
and the line is so blurred;
between start and finish;
a tidal wave;
no footprints left in the sand;
no footsteps to follow;
just a common cause;
and an uncommon burden;
no order in the misery of life;
no substance;
I want to wrap you in the shelter of my soul;
it aches for you;
a storm brews;
and lightning strikes;
with no sound of thunder;
a whirlwind;
the fury of gusts;
as dirt and sand and debris;
circle us, taunting;
demanding to be allowed;
to whisk us away;
with no restraints;
no direction;
just the splitting cuts;
of micro origins of glass;
rain;
to wash us clean;
the fear is, no matter how long I try;
this will never be complete;
no matter how strongly I feel;
I will never be able to put it to you;
fully;
so there's the issue my love;
I only want you to know;
that I have to try;
to embrace the chaos.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
If I could, I would make my words
Notes of music that purr
A beautiful song is within me
Struggling to claw out
Struggling to make itself heard
Struggling to breathe its miracle
On my life
To clean it out as in spring
To give it the fresh start it needs
If I could, the notes would envelop
You, and cover you infinitely
In a perpetual wrap
An effective dressing upon a wound
That needs to be healed
If I could only give words to my meaning
And no more giving meaning to words
Such a backwards way to express one’s self
Cause I already know how I feel
The struggle is to make you feel it too
In the purest form, without sacrificing your senses
I want you to know the music of my soul
The xylophonic beat, the thundering percussion
Then I want you to know the emotion behind it
The battle between peace of mind
And storm of spirit
An everlasting war rages on
But instead of the death it implies
It’s an existence I can’t describe
And the artistry of my music
Isn't that it’s complete or finished
But that it’s an ever evolving work
That the journey will always be
More satisfying than the end
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
clearer than the brightest day,
sharper than the handiest blade,
the thought of you swallows me whole,
to see the beauty of all the world,
manifested in your awesome gaze,
but with a hint of cloud,
not to keep me out,
but to keep me wanting more...
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
The rapture brings chaos to us all
While the indiscriminate winds stagger
As though drunk with the songs of the world
But look at the man below us
With his back burned and braised
Like a piece of meat cooking over open flames
A chain links around his neck
The knees shake like the loose buckle
The foreman whips while the master chuckles
But…the fields are harsh, and nature is cruel
A world at peace brings pain on us
The price is high and the cost is steep
Yet…no drinks of water for the thirsty soul
He’ll be dead before the end of night
But…like a phoenix rising from the ashes
Resurrection of Christ-like entities
Stone-walled faces of contempt
This is the life they made him live
This is the puddle of blood that came from him
But history doesn’t remember the man
History remembers the institution
So as to not give glory to the individual
But to give praise to the larger existence
Yes we are weak in the shrouded story
We are weak in the uncertain aims
We are weak in temporary pleasures
But I cannot be weak today
My vague life and clouded soul
Are a glimpse of what I could be
If I fail
But if I succeed, I will earn your love
And God will love me again
As he loved him with the braised back
All I have to do is turn around
Glance over my shoulder
And see myself for what I am
A man who is a slave to his desires
No control no discipline
The chain link around my neck
my knees shake like a loose buckle
As the foreman whips and the master chuckles
my burned and braised back
Instant gratification, instant pleasure
For a lifetime of servitude to my basest of sins
I have been dominated.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
in my darkest hour
thoughts, though random, sense made
the brooding man sleeps alone
no shelter from the cold of wind
what spurs me on
I have walked aimlessly for months
compounded on one another like interest
turning into lifetimes of worthlessness
stock to be sold immediately
harvest to be burned instantaneously
love to be buried as though it never existed
at times I find myself in lonely places
in the midst of a crowd
surrounded by friends and family
I tune them out
but in so doing, I tune out myself
my father once told me
the greatest thing I could accomplish in life
was the sowing of my oats
I have no desire to do such a thing
instead, I desire to further explore
the limits of my solitude
to bask in it
to owe no one, to have no debts
to save my feelings in the bank of me
and let the interest compound
at times I find myself in lonely places
at a stadium or a concert
surrounded by strangers
yelling and thrashing about
they don't know, but I've caught a glimpse
of their very soul
at that moment, precise and to the point
I know who they are
but I will never yell or thrash about
regardless of a win or loss
or pure enjoyment or disdain from performance
I thrive in the land of forced mystery
a slave to the carcass of who I was meant to be
one night though, cold in September,
I recall a realization that haunts me to this day
that I have no roots anywhere
I am a floating vessel in a very large sea
days before my Great Depression
weeks before my Great Crisis
I will cash out
and leave everyone behind.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC
Let me be honest
The thought of you knowing me scares me
It sends shivers down my spine
My breath quivers and shakes
As I gasp and grasp
I have not been worthy
To look upon my angel's face
The auburn aura of your hair
A saint's halo
Though punished I am
Though incomplete I am
Let me be honest
I thrive for the yearning
The yearning I have for you
Hoping to never reach you
I fear satisfaction
For my goal is not to reach my goal
But my aim is to enjoy the journey
To enjoy the anticipation
Of your touch
Let me be honest
The best moments are such
The air between our lips before a kiss
The static presence of our energies
Right before they intertwine
In unending passion
Let me be honest
I've been burned before
So I just want to feel the heat
And not the fire
And this is why
I have not set hammer to nail
I don't want to destroy what I have now
I don't want it to change
All I want is to peer deep in your eyes
To feel your smile
To know that you know how much I want you
To experience the sensation of need
To understand my yearn
To be engulfed in the heat of desire
But let me be honest
I don't want to burn.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 4:57 PM UTC