I've returned to this place, but not how I had hoped
The walls peeling, ceilings drip, floorboards curved and sloped
Mildew spreads around corners and shadows swallow light
Thoughts creep in like whispers, forcing me to write
They're in my head again, the infestations swell
Clawing at my eyelids, the night escapes. Oh well
Perhaps I am the intruder
I left this place to rot
Yet, it's the one who evicted me
It is I who I forgot

The wind is ripping
From the sound of oscillating
Overhead 'copters
Splitting my vision.

In the peripherals;

       A polyester carpet—sleeping bags—breaks the dry monotony of summer grass;
       The bicycle courier awakes from said floor, listless;
       Important man, suited, takes calls from other men, suited — octopus arms scattering papers, receipts, coffee cups and tie;
       Two hard hat builders chain cigarettes and fight visible hangovers, droopy eyes staring down some impending scaffold.

And I almost miss it all,
For the passing,
Of oscillating 'copters.

Black hair between my fingers,
Pink vapour in my lungs,
Cryptic wishes and longing for something I’ll never find.
These are the nights that I never forgive but always forget

she had always said
her favorite color was yellow
for the girl with buttery skin and crystal eyes
it seemed rather fitting
yellow was the color of sunshine
and the color of her hair
after it had been bleached by summer
it was the color of the bumblebees
that drank from her favorite flowers
flowers that now
line her grave

she told you
her favorite color was yellow
because she knew you needed someone
radiant with light
to ease the depth
of your own darkness
so she said
when autumn arrived
you could watch the ground
become littered with yellow leaves
together

when you asked what color
lie beneath her skin
she told you it was yellow
she made herself believe
her body was freckled from stardust
and not from the amber glow
of cigarette burns
she still said
her favorite color was yellow
so she could continue being the light
in your colorless world

soon enough
your favorite color was yellow too
but not for the same reasons
she fell in love with it
you only saw yellow vaguely
in the form of teeth
stained from tobacco and too much coffee
smiling grimly through cracked lips
dripping poisoned honey
you guilded the word ¨love¨
with muted ochre lies

and now
she no longer feels the warmth
that once emanated
from her favorite color
she no longer tastes
the sweetness of butterscotch
and papaya on your lips
for you left her with nothing but
the sour residue of lemons and bile
as your gentle breath
extinguished her golden flames
and reduced her heart to ash

and now
she realizes that bumblebees
can also administer a piercing sting
and as she watches the sunset
with its amber hues
she no longer sees
the color yellow


x.

my first crush committed suicide.
i remember the hurt at a young age
from chasing him around his living room
begging him for a kiss.
from my young age i knew i wanted him
in my life forever.
through his weaves and gagging
running around the furniture and up the stairs,
losing him sounded foreign then
and having lost him now, still feels the same.
our fathers drank and our mothers giggled
born three months apart
our future planned together
both saying "i do"
uniting us all together.
life flew on by
us both fighting with ourselves
and downing the bottles underneath the bed
loaded and silenced
family portraits painted in red
long life memories all put to rest.
only one made it out alive
but it's hard to breathe
out of us how was it me
and you in a little box
where a diamond ring should be.
my mind keeps wondering
when will i stop chasing you
then my heart replays
every time you turned a corner
you looked over your shoulder
and how you smiled at me.

Our religions are different.

Your god loves his creations
and takes care of them
and has a future planned out for them.
Your god created heaven and earth
and everything in between.

My god puts an unwanted child
in an already broken home and says
"here, have a fun life"
and leaves them forever.
My god created a planet
he is allowing to die
and he created vast dark space
and black holes
and he created monsters out of men and little boys.

Your god forgives and loves unconditionally.

My god holds grudges and gets revenge.

Your god is a kind-faced old man
sitting on a throne of clouds.

My god is a stone-cold faced judge
who towers over his people from his steel throne.

Your god created humans to be companions with each other.

My god created enemies and starts wars.

Your god has mercy and compassion.

My god has anger and fury.

We do not share religion
because I do not believe in the god you claim to praise.

The bible commands you don't worship false idols...
but what if the god you were taught to follow...

Is One

He smoke cigarettes,
not to make it look cool,
but to fade the pleasure of sins.
Sins that were made in heaven..
Heaven that belonged to a girl..
A girl with buttery skin and crystal eyes..
Eyes that never speak for lies..
Lies about love, lies about deceit..
But deceit is what he repeatedly received.
To let it go,
to make the effort not letting the past steal his present,
the past that he wants to forget,
and forget how her voice sounded,
to learn the lesson in a bitter way.
He smokes cigarettes.

The music of time
Remains frozen
Drifting like snowflakes
Across the Himalayas
Waiting for dancers
To unlock the mystery
A simple Pas de deux
Lyrical and elegant
Filled with the joy
Of lovers
Joined by a thread
Suspended
But never touching
Until the final moment
As the music of time
Transports their reality
Into one