you only pray on two ams /
under neon lights of bars' storefronts /
the world tastes like gargled salt water, if you close your eyes hard enough it smells like cotton candy /
but you don't have to try to see imaginary strangers holding up peace signs, a middle finger /
fireflies in your vision /
snowflakes in the spring, falling leaves in a summer night, cherry blossoms of the dead winter /
a broken dam /
streams of words wild /
before you can get your address out of your lips /
blackout.
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
you taste like the fizzy sodas,
watermelons in summer,
the afternoons i spend daydreaming,
clear skies inside milk cartoons.
we meet in between the lines,
touch sparks like fireworks
and heat melting off our walls,
we're two lines crisscrossed
into several points,
constellations and corners.
first kisses,
shy touches,
getting to know.
you taste like the strawberry lip balm
you put on before dinner,
bucketfuls of cotton candy,
midnights that sound like gentle waves,
middays that promise fondness.
let me catch your bottom tier
between both of mine,
catch your hand under the table,
catch you when you fall.
i am no traveller or adventurer,
but i'd be eager to map out
your every nooks and crannies.
fill in your edges as you caress my curves,
finish where you start and
end when you begin,
meet you every time i dream
of the cloudless nights and the stars
above your rooftop, inside your eyes.
i am not big on promises
but set again another date,
let's do this again
and i won't be late.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
the e m p r e s s ordered
the commencement of building a house
out of hearts
a member of the roundtable
mere a f o o l
damnations
& agreements
blasphemy is law, fingers sew
whatever
ears hear
mouths out
the k n i g h t is at most a j a c k
ripping off ****** organs, blood-pumpers
the snow-clad land is tainted in crimson
hands are dripping scarlet
just a matter of tarots
nailed onto the town hall's board
and j o k e r s are us
this comedy show
logic rusting in the mind's attic
lambs and inanimate s h e p e r d s
for we are blind
for we believe
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 2:39 PM UTC
lights on the ceiling
d
r
o
p
ping.
there is an earthquake
inside this house,
it wrecks THE
W A L L S
but reassembles
the destroyed mirror
we bought last week.
the cage is gold
steel cold hidden
painted with ichor,
your god and the
sacrifice
gone
abhor.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
if there
has to be named,
one thing i like is
sincerity.
the way the ocean
is unabashed
in loving the land,
waves kissing shores fierce;
the way the sky
cries and shouts
in his misery;
the honest way
facts stay true:
water flows always down,
freezes always ice,
dies always unseen.
if there is anything
whose taste i adore,
it's sincerity as
my stone heart offers
no empathy, as
news break hearts
and not all souls weeped.
if there
has to be named,
one thing i like is mystery.
it is in the way fire licks
and flickers and burns and
playing is a bet
of safety and danger,
how the weather roars
or settles calm as dead;
unpredictable.
it is how my lips
are pressed tight
against each other
and my heart a windowless,
doorless house.
mystery in the way we smile
behind frowns or cry
behind laughter.
if there's anything
whose taste i adore,
it's the mystery
i subjected on you:
is this heart cruel
or kind?
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 7:46 PM UTC
believe it or not:
sometimes i
see the way
your eyes don't crinkle
when you smile,
sometimes i see
how your laugh
tastes like formality,
and when your
mind is a flood,
or life is unkind to you,
i see how your lips
are shut tight.
and you enclose your
arms around yourself,
drawing steps back,
and further
and further
where my hands can't
reach.
i wish you would just
teach me the way
you take your tea,
or what kind of
blankets you like,
or how to
sing for you.
but whoever becomes
your anchor
amidst the wild storms,
my heart is
at peace
as long as
i know
you're fine.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 7:39 PM UTC
there's a sky
inside your head;
starless, cloudless.
stretched lands
inside your mind
that are a little
too large
for the one small you.
you're no god
despite how
people tell you
you're invicible.
you are just a man;
and men die
out of isolation.
you can't speak
out loud, because
nobody's there
to hear your sounds.
so you live
under your own sky
on your own land
that feels a little
too large
for the one small you.
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
the sky was below
your dangling feet.
offsides to a building
you stay seated.
boxes and more boxes;
geometrical shapes
in your field of vision.
hard straight lines,
unforgiving.
alone alone alone alone
alone alone alone alone.
if you look up,
maybe you can find the sea.
a twisted reality—
but who are you
to deny seeing.
because stuck in the
darkness of a blind
terrifies you more than
a box full of other boxes.
unforgiving.
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
something grows
beautifully
on the wall
at the back
of the class.
plenty colorful,
a little cheerful,
a seed the
world pays
no attention to,
yet it keeps
its smile.
because
of the
awareness
that seeds
grow into
bigger
beautiful things.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
purple clouds
like cotton candies
taste oddly heavy
similar to a kind
of disappointment
my mom once
spoke about.
three fingers in
deep between
pale lips
such contrast
that would have
been ironic
in its own epitome.
but now its
a little funny
tongue heavily
dipped in
confusion and anger
both at once
like chocolate sauce
slick and thick
and lips parted
almost screaming
in either pain
or pleasure
or pride.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 11:44 AM UTC