Bruises turn to scars,
but memories never fade,
my soul weeps in silence for this love,
why do I stay?

Tasted,
   dipped fingers into chocolate.
Figures;
  Glutenous Pig.
"Sorry";
    there goes the notion of trust. . .
Endless "hey cutie" inboxes;
   I picture doing it back.

yet I stay ,
   sick for your love,
I stay. . .

In this endless song.

-Stay

The room spins, in our mind this is a silent waltz.
Two alcohol induced souls, the musics gone,
the lights are low , yet we dance and continue to put on our show.

No more twirls, no dipping low
Just whispers between two strangers,
Your eyes, mirrors. Reflecting a heart thats incomplete,
a lonely soul.

The dancing's done, the night is dark,
yet in this anguish, I contemplate,
was it love or lust? the silence of my own anguish,
Longing for love, wondering if was the stranger at the bar.

3 years ago you left this world,
   3 years ago I ceased to exist,
        breathing became life,
             until yesterday,
                 I decided to live again. . . not for you. . . not for them. . .
                         but for me. . . -strength

Citrus, rosemary and peppermint (from the hot chocolate you hate)
under the Christmas lights (of the mall you hated),
these memories, push them out.

Our laughter at your stupid jokes ( I hated),
stolen glances, and a given kiss,
amongst the cold outdoor desert air.

Poets of passion,
writing stories of love on our skin,
a language of desire and longing.

Your ink forever stains my heart,
a reminder, that I am not happy,
that I am not good enough,
that I am forever mourning.

My heart which longs to fickle,
it longs to belong, someday, find another.
Yet it is chained, with a fragile ember,
amongst your ink that stains it.
That refuses to die, that you are alive,
you are breathing, you are here, you never left.
( I hate myself)
(I hate myself)
(I am a fool)
I wish to hear your stupid joke, "what did the horse say. . ." (what a stupid joke) once more.

I want to write a novel;
   of my many heartbreaks.
But my brain whispers;
  "he still won't come back"
I want to pickup my pen;
   see melodic reflections in tears.
But;
   he made my eyes dry.

-Sweet honey

Sweet melancholy,
   falling and not getting up,
                   trying to succeed,
                           to find yourself loving alone,  
                                   fight but here the sad news,

Sweet melancholy,
  when you lose your hair,
           angered at the world,
             fight, fight, fight only to find yourself alone,
                                                                       you hold it in. . .
                                      
Let me hold your hand,
   Let me in, Let me hold you.
       I promise to learn from my mistakes,
                                                       to get better,
                                                          to love you more. .  .

Sweet melancholy,
           ardent smiles set,
               tears of rain that stream the soul,
                                       you want to be alone. . .
                                                   volcanic eruptions of anger and rage. . .
Sweet melancholy,
I lost something I can't replace,
                                close my eyes. . .
                                         take me under the endless stars,  
                                               ignite the heavens in my sleep,
to a place where we can call "home" together once more.

- S͎w͎e͎e͎t͎ ͎M͎e͎l͎a͎n͎c͎h͎o͎l͎y͎

Take my lips, and stain them.
Take my arms, and hold them,
Take my heart, and break it.
Take my eyes, so they can see,

Take my hips, and move them.
Take my legs, dance with them.

Better yet. . .

Take my soul, into yours.
   So we can dance in a state of purgatory
      in endless bliss, take me. . .

-T͓̽a͓̽k͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽

Remember, the cold desert breeze.
The strange silence  after the cicada's song has gone to sleep.
Bare concrete floors, a broken down door.
An old computer desk with D+J carved into the wood.
Beat up old bed, with a lone gaga poster on the wall.
How, we thought we were "different",
When you'd tell me on the phone, "its going to be okay, I'll run away with you".
I dreamed of a warm home, now I have three.
I dreamed of a car, now I have four.
I dreamed of money, now I have too much to count.
I was cold,
                Hungry,
                          Angry,
But at least I had you.
from diapers until 23. . . we were always together . .
Almost a decade later and I wonder if you are still up there
gazing at me.
    If you are proud of who I became.

I'm tired of waiting,
with my arms empty in embrace,
of my eager heart yearning to hold you,
I thought about those delights of the days and nights.
Fictitious thoughts of true love the heart that longs.

The song of youth is quick, the curtain falls.
It concludes from grandeur to silent halls.
No more applause, No encores,
Just chasms amongst the skin, as shadow linger, memories ache.
Will you still love me? Asking the question you already know.
Changes nothing. . .

The womb is the safest place,
   The moment we enter the world,
        Beauty becomes an adjective for baby,
           It is in that moment, we are told our flaws,
          It is in that moment, we are destined for our own Greek tragedy
                    For in our quest to conform, we become deformed beings
                                                 a figment, of what we were destined to be.

As he leaves, he takes his memory.
His ways of being, his current of emotions,
His sweet honeydew smell, his way of being goodbye
and never.

Still nights, the superficial,
,
Without noticing you went from him,
to it, to a thing.
polished thing.
Falling, slipping
crying, sweet anguish thing.
Sweet thing, trapped in captivity of the entrails,
of the knot already forever binded,
blinded from the sobbing, you lose yourself
sweet thing.

Until one day, another stops the pain.
Stops it, and reduces it to an annoying
voice, a mysterious touch, to a resurfaced polish.
Offered, given, taken,
sweet thing the hidden loneliness all but awaits,
you fail to feel its quake as you play the game again.

5 a.m., off to work
6 a.m., huffs and puffs I am running late
8 a.m., mundane calls
10 a.m, mundane lunch
12 a.m., longing for it to to be 8 p.m.
tick, tock, tick, tock
hours and mintues pass
only to repeat again tomorrow.

He loses his beauty,
loses his grace,
loses his wit,
until he is no more,
until there is nothing left to pick.
He gives freely, begging the sky for grace.
But he is confined to hell, all in the name of those he loves.
Time does not forgive.

Maybe one day,
I can escape the chasm of mental ignorance,
              Dance the art of intellect in perpetuity
                                             Time does not forgive. . .
                                                              It only takes. . .
                               The mind ripens, the body weakens,
                                   Swallowed by a raging sea of damnation
                                             there is no SOS, no cries, only silence.

Every flower eventually wilts,
    Every bone rots,
        may history be forgiving. . .

Amongst the desert, with its silence
broken by the cricket that does not sleep.
There is a tomb, your tomb, adorned by flowers.
With their beautiful everlasting Hughes of yellow and blue,
tainted, sun bleached, plastic flowers,
trash littered amongst your grave
tells the tale of someone forgotten. . .
In this tomb your name is carved,
with its letters lost to time,
& on moonlight nights,
under the basking of the stars,
amongst the waves of my damnation
I wish I had more time,
   I wish I you proud of me,
        I wish I could turn back time. . .
for even in death, I fail you.
    just look at your t̶o̶m̶b̶. . .
          I'm sorry. . .

Hold me like you used to do,
Let my thoughts run free to the moon,
      Let my arteries burn in lustful flame,
             Let me fall in love all over tonight,
for endless are my sorrows,
  so endless my miseries,
        I'm scared. . .
          so let me experience . . . love. . .
                at least for tonight.

Truth is but fabrications,
a figment of inspiration.
I can't compare life or death,
Nor the sound of your breath.

Time goes by, and seasons change
No one sees you walking down the street,
Its fall but flowers bloom without leaves.
and here I sit and wonder what is truth?

Eyes closed I learn to paint,
In solidarity I paint your soul,
Brighter with every stroke,
My painting is monotonous,
for it only paints you.

Everyone around me dances,
I ask myself everyday if I have gone insane.
With a smile on my face,
What is truth? What is lie?
All I know is you. . .

Nobody sees me,
but I see you.
truth rejects me,
Fantasy to me is real,
For its all I see, and that Fantasy is you.

My face in stillness,
threads a shroud of silence.
My skin lightens, my blood thus fades,
it burns and cooks my soul alive.
As it weeps and wallows in the agony,
slow un-coming unforgiving death
slow slow slow death
what a joke of agony
life plays
as its bow plays the tune of my pain
forever linked, forever intwined with your death. .
a t̶u̶n̶e̶ that never ends . . .

Turn off the lights,
hide my flaws,
just love me in the dark.

My heart is a lighthouse,
   each beat a cut in the endless human sea,
      a cut, in the grandeur of the dreary sky,
          it spins, and spins,
             each Ƥùl𝓈є full of light,
               until with time it fades,
                    a reminder,
                        of longing,
                             belonging,
                                 wanting,
                                     yet fulfilled.

My tenderness for you,
would like to be the grave; the land, so that you rest in my hands.
That is why at 2:48 AM, my alarming thoughts are purified.
As I quietly dig my own grave, u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶e̶t̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶'̶

Sleep my love,
may nightmares turn to dreams,
may worries fade,
may your past become your future.
until we meet again.

Sleep my love,
save your voice
become one with my dying heartbeat,
may your words that bring a sweet melancholy,
not be wasted on me.

May we meet again,
         fight again,
             laugh again,
                love again,
so let my eyes close and heart sleep
in the sweet moments of our goodbye
           until we meet again.

I am dying strangely, love does not **** me.
My heart is still beating, death does not yet visit me.
I am dying of these memories, a would of longing.
Do you feel my pain?
This memory, that has rooted itself in my soul.
It ***** away all happiness & sadness, why does it not bloom?
This memory of you I can not erase,
Time does not forgive , I lost myself more and more in your old embrace.

Every kiss you make,
  memories will cross your mind,
      and you will feel my lips once more.
         Forever tied in unyielding song forever on repeat.

My love,
Tongue of vitriol,
amongst ripped pages.
Amongst unaltered belief of a winged partridge
at my back beckoning my faults.
Tears that stream, like trees with broken nerves
that never touch the ground.

This is what I see in the darkened hour,
This is what I see in the mirror,
amongst the pillars of the chapel
a figment of my imagination,
I am but a pigeon amongst a sea of doves,
incapable of words, incapable of love letters like Rilke the poet.
Only capable of vitriol at the tongue
scorning love, scorning life, scorning death
yet living it. . .how ironic.

You forgot,
and yet I wait.
In our home,
with the peach tree that blossoms in the spring,
the lantana that loves its sun,
and the rose that only grows stems.
longing to forget, longing to leave,
but stuck in the same place.
waiting for you.

What I had, is what I did not have.
Perhaps what my heart should have wanted,
each love song, a curse and blaze.
That singes and burns into my heart
I hear you, hitting me,
forging me,
into a statue forever stuck in emotional wanting.

Across the room, you smile.
Hand in hand with your child,
her arm locked around yours, eyes bright full of gold.
"what a beautiful family" someone comments.

But I know the darkness, the hidden, the bad dream.
The tears, the echo in your soul,
that screams as you're trapped.

Their joy is built, on your pain.
Each step you take to run away, each memory that pulls you back.
The deceit, the despair, the life you built.
Your own punishment for pushing away what we both know.

Bombs are falling in the name of freedom
limbless soulless children peer into the thin veil of the heart
only to find a populous succumb to normalcy !
Plague is upon us, the planet is dying
nobody speaks for the trees,
for we must satisfy an infallible thirst to destroy.
Yet they cling to the beads,
get on their knees
pray to a deity

I humbly ask
"where is god"

                as this world turns to suffering
                poor get poorer
children starve
mothers cry
and fathers **** themselves

"where is god"

has he abandoned us?
for we have become his greatest mistake. . .

This Christmas,
   I do not ask for a lot,
      I simply wish to dream eternally,
                  so we may meet once more
just a second in time, to ask for forgiveness for who I became.

Why can't we hold one another in the street?
Why can't we kiss and hold hands?
Why do you pretend I am a friend?

Are you afraid,
   of dark eyes all around
I can't stop silent tears
  I know we have to hide
why is our love hopeless?

I want to shout
   from the rooftop
   from the street
I want to
   kiss
   hold hands
I want others to know
   I am not just a friend. . .

Is it so hard to simply be yours-

If I smiled more the first night,
If I laughed at your joke on the third birthday party we celebrated,
If I tried harder.
each night is the same,
a different memory, a different critique If . .
What could be different?
Where is the fault?
If I changed that minute detail.

Would you have stayed ꨄ

This wave of emotions,
that has invaded with savory harmony of unbreathable anxiety.
Mornings to nights, nights faded. . .
sorrows well achieved and joys badly lived.
Be still my wounded heart,
as it pulls me in.

@ 3AM
melancholy state of mind,
  wishing you were,
    yearning for this real life simile to end.
      hoping today is the day I do not compare anyone to you.
        for I love you and hate you,
           save me from this ᴊᴜxᴛᴀᴘᴏꜱɪᴛɪᴏɴ
.

I curse the mockingbird,
  that sings to mock me. . .
I curse his song,
  that brings him joy and happiness. . .
Insuperable, ugly, disgusting song. . .
  mocks me for my loneliness
I curse the mocking bird and his mate. . .
   that laugh at me as they mate
I curse the mockingbird and its happiness. . .
   for in it, I see a past long gone with no future.

I curse myself
   for in my song
        I lost you
          I am
         αℓσηє

Beautiful sunlight,
  and sunrays which ooze life,
      a tranquil reminder of another day,
          another day I wished for it all to end.
               Beautiful Moonlight,
                   whose rays you can not escape,
                      a constant reminder of my jealousy and hate.
                          another day I looked towards the stars,
                           only to outline your smile so intoxicating and bright.

So I said to the Moon, The Sun and the Stars
      " Why do you mock me?"
               then came the reply through the rain,
                   each drop , never alone
                        a mocking reminder
                            I am αʅσɳҽ. . .

On a long and ugly forgotten beach,
  I curse and mock the sun, that bears witness to your lies,
I hear the waves, a figment of imagination,
     raging under my own decrepitly mental state.
Before the song of my nirvana,
    I curse the mother, and its womb,
        that brought perfection under the moon.
& within all this insanity,
    I curse you,
        loathe you,
           for in you,
              I see me,
                 foolish,
                    young,
                       in love,
                           βŘ𝐨𝓀𝓔𝐧

We are a flame,
   with age we grow,
        brighter,
           stronger,
             more ardent than the stars above,
                with age we die
                    to illuminate the next life.

8th of August 2012

My dear sweet friend,
my heart should be raging unrelenting, but its full of tepid waves.
   I feel listless as in endless sleep in my mothers womb,
      and yet I ask why?
          self-sacrifice met with betrayal.
a heart so broken,
the very essence of my soul weeps.
    I lay, ever so wide-awake, the silent darkness,
        a reminder, I am alone.

So why my sweet friend,
     do I not curse them,
        wish ill will,
               bad health,
                  or even death?

for when did I become weak. . .

▌│█║▌║▌║ ฬεά𝐤 ║▌║▌║█│▌

Let me lie under the smell of herbs,
       flowers, and rotting sap from ancient trees.
          prepare the earthly sheets,
             with pollen that tickles the nose
               an infinite reminder of my insanity.

Let me sleep,
  under the constellation of the lion,
      majestic vast grandeur,
          an infinite reminder of a strong soul,
               forever lost and broken.

Rock me to sleep,
  with the song of buds breaking open,
    and angels that sing the song of purgatory,
       an infinite reminder,
           of  man , a sinner, a son, a product of humanity.

In the end,
  when the pills run out,
      and the world returns to normalcy,
         with one less miserable soul,
             take a note,
                 that I am happy,
                         free ⓞη𝓬𝐞 ᵐ๏Ř乇