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Burning Lilacs Jan 2022
The late January 2 p.m. sun is as follows:
    - omnipresent
    - ten thousand photon hands per body
    - shining through souls;
         >  flesh has no stopping force if completely unraveled and dissolved in the sweetness of spring;
             the promise.
         a spring something that wafts through the still fresh year air,
     the one that gets animals and humans alike frantic,
  pink in patches, rhythms beating,
resonance seeking of matter against matter,

Surface vertical,
& Finally
Upwards when we merge,
having found each other,
released in sync
into the sky;
and heavy with the journey.

And then I kiss you again.
I'm back!!
Burning Lilacs Mar 2021
I heard it.
A human voice.
Connection established, solitude broken.
The sound of a string snapping,
I hope I was mistaken.

Silence collapsing under its own weight.
Scattered quarks and anti-quarks  
shattering the perfect neutral harmony.
The remorseless swelling of matter.
Until no stillness, no Nothing remains.
Burning Lilacs Dec 2019

Burning Lilacs Nov 2019
If that of me which were rubbed away
got retrieved,

(Of course, yes,
it can't become "Me" again.)

It could at least be made mine. Arranged anew

"An eraser's poem"
The general idea for this poem came to me from within a dream in which I was tasked with titling and commenting on a book about my life.
Burning Lilacs Jul 2019
It's as though through letting ideas slip away into nothingness
I've died countless times:
unrealised, unfulfilled, unsatisfied.
Their last scream of agony devoid of substance,
reverberates through me,
Reminding me that
I've neglected to death that which could've filled me.

I sit alone quietly watching,

An ego of sand trickles down
each grain a like on a tweet, a seen video.
Aren't they really smart? The people who make these things?
Promised to make me golden,
And I am, indeed.
Just as cold and saleable as that.

NO no,

I keep trying to claw my way out.
It's taking too long, why isn't it working?
Hands getting weaker?
Nails dulling out?
Or maybe I've never had anything sharp on myself to begin with.

The worst is that I'm not alone in this
And most of you seem content.
Living being made to obey
With grains of dopamine being thrown around
as we dance to catch each in our mouths.
Not much different from these poor animals at the circus.

Let's cut this short.

Aim big and don't expect a praise or prize soon after you start.
People aren't brands and brands aren't people.
Let's learn to enjoy the ride more than the destination.
Good luck, I believe in me,
I believe in you.
Good luck good luck good luck, remember you're a knife that just needs sharpening sometimes.
  Mar 2019 Burning Lilacs
Perhaps they were right
about cameras
They really do steal our souls
and place them
in pretty little squares.

Maybe that's why
we're all
soulless now.
Burning Lilacs Jul 2018
May it be quiet
May there be no light,
For May is quite tired
Tonight Last night Next night

Sleep tight,
Shall not one bird shout
What with doubt or delight
Insomnia-blue sky sounds out

May May fess up, call-self-out?
May I, Shall I, Am I?
What only a cvnt could spout
Burnt bridges, Eye melting an eye

This milk's rotten, I won't cry
Peace is all I dream about.
The birds sing, another fight
Goodnight cry out Be alright
May is a pseudonym I sign artwork with, my "internet artist persona".
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