i can't turn off my mind
when all this energy is circling around me, it's hard to see what is lost
and you say you've lost the air completely
so how are you breathing
with the world in constant motion?
how can you even feel what is real?
is it really brighter in the dark?
the sunrise heats this arbitrary place
mysteries roll down my face like the sun's rays
i'm caught in the backseat with an imperfect view

It’s a green moonlit path; the beauty is greeted with the ethereal flow of semiopaque water. It is not clear of the whereabouts, perhaps somewhere near-maybe somewhere near the sea. And for whatever reason, I picture you there, to breathe in the cool air, the dust from the stars that ricochet off the water, the lights beaming, transcending thoughts and vibrations I want to put in a jar, until I conclude that they are intangible. They only exist in your mind.
How can I breathe through you if I cannot even attain a piece of you?
Deep inside me, you’re there, but to hold, I cannot find you.
Who decides what is real and what is a dream?
I feel you in the flowers, I see you in branches on trees, oh if only life could be so small. The atmosphere has inexplicable elements, elements that make up our story, and I love every part of it.
I could conjure a treehouse, and we can abandon the world. We’ll redefine our own reality. Spirits will live within wood paneled walls, lined with olive branches and glistening with the sound of cicadas. Our veins will match the patterns of that a plant, the lifeblood of leaves, as we coexist with nature, and you’ll remember we are one in the same. We can burn our material things, the things we seem like we care about, but we know that if mankind had not corrupted society with these time consuming ideals... I’ll tear away the misadventures in your brain. We won’t be able to hide ourselves in nature, instead, we’ll live through it. But hurry up, we’ve only got eternity.

as this flame stares,
i stare back
a light losing,
eyes already lost
the sky is breaking darkness and
my finger burns but,
i'm spiralling,
i float.
it's not chaos,
a swifting fire is my guide
a humble shape shifter under the moonlight.
this language it speaks,
i understand
with a pocketful of dreams to burn, and
clouds breathing through my soul
telling me
i'll be on the salty seas at twilight

i ricochet my thoughts
as you flood my subconscious mind
I am small and
my world crushes under the pressure
of your hands
but even then I appreciate
your warmth

He holds a piece of glass to leak his white sky
He roams around lost in a pipedream, eyes blind
He perceives a false distortion of time
He is lost inside
He falls behind with dreams he can't find
He enables a ghost to host his mind
He haunts me to believe our thoughts are aligned
He clouds his wounds with a flower
He pretends he's not sinking in his sanity every hour
He said We'll all float on okay
He sang Don't you worry, we'll all float on

I remember us walking, feeling colors in our heads
I remember injecting your brain with vibrations unheard
I remember your eyes radiating before you told me you felt something
I remember them telling me my psyche was cracked
I remember the highway glare, halfway there
I remember my mother telling me, "One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star."
I remember she added: "Love is blind, friendship closes its eyes."
I wish I didn't invest so much time
I wish i glimpsed his fathoms before I thought him to shine
I wish someone gave me a sign

i want to write a card splattered with ink blots
covered with my smell and imbedded with pale blue tears
folded in half, sealed with devotion, sprinkled with powder
honest intentions, or thoughts to share under the moon
so i will fall into a waterless pond or
love from a graveyard will travel somewhere else
do you want to keep me?
come over in your silver car, stop at the corner store
let's create something sentimental
broken lights are gone

I can't hear music anymore
the sound, it goes right through me
I can't hear words anymore
only letters with false meaning
I can't look at myself anymore
i'm scared i won't recognize the reflection
i can't speak anymore
i don't quite know where i went

oh stranger, tell me,
which is scarier?
to think of
everything
all at once
or to think of
nothing
all at once
for hours on end?

oh, there is something i can do
I stare
into an infinite chasm,
a bottomless pit,
a sea of vacant daydreams, and think,
if only i had a new pair of eyes
maybe, just maybe
this cloud of black and white would float away
but it's not that simple
perhaps i'm colorblind,
my world is so discolored.

no, i must be haunted
nothing stares back,
no prospect of anything.
i can't focus
i can't breathe
i can't find shelter
so tell me,
what am i searching for?
my world is not only colorless,
it's chaotic,
it's messy,
like the lines of my
poems

there was a time, i remember
when my ribs were filled with innumerable seeds
and with the promise of spring there came a downfall
it was then that i grew,
my bones, they breathed in lilac
my lungs blossomed, dripping with floral honey
so i could taste sweetness

my ribcage, it bloomed this garden
but everyone picked the petals of my precious flowers
until i was left with far gone stems
that was when my anatomy cracked

this earth, it stomped on them
a skeleton that once held meadows shattered its bones
at least there are no more flower stains
but it's rotting inside
those decaying bones are friends with
my rose-tinted blood

can I even complicate
my continuum of thoughts?
if so, will I ever be able
to stop?
If I dig deeper
There's no air
There's no warmth
There's not a soul being
in sight
Oh, I'll
drown
won't I?

Oh my mind
It's ill-defined,
hazey
it's left me severed
I'm sightless.
did the unknown hinder a
blind tragedy?
They tell me,
We can pretend for awhile
So i'll pour the sea in my head,
I'll make it full again.
but my mind will only be
under siege
it's a temporary fix
Like leaking my dreams with
matchsticks

can I even complicate the patterns
that I inhale?
such a strange feeling
as if you can't grasp your mind
when your psyche
is flooded
What is real? What is mine?
To what extent is detachment twisted
When you can no longer
reach
the surface ?

I see an oceanic void where
the only movements are
the vibration of my bones
not radiating in dance; they're
shaking,
shaking
in this abyss

the sun was deceiving,
it spilled colors in my mind
and turned out a lie
but that's okay,
i know beauty should not feel
synthesized
and they say
"no two sunsets are the same,"
well
i'm sorry if i smiled at you
the same way i smiled at the
sky
your bravado was pathetic
like a landscape without a horizon
line

sweet skin, come back and taste the world with me
there will be a time
our minds radiate at the thought
of warming your bones once more
our bodies don't want you to slip away
our flowers smile at the secrets we hold
yet your silence unveils a habit
not questioned
for i would give it all to feel your energy
once more
will there be a time

In a cigarette smile, I'll lead you out
in light
Until
remnants of your sweet fabrications
twirl away

Don't remain unsatisfied, a world we could be inside
turned
grey

how does the water from my tearducts find
comfort
upon my cheek?

i collect a silhouette through which i
can’t
speak

heartbeats in my
chest and
mind

I hold  a gaping sentiment i can’t find

within
my brain
am i but

blind?

.

i crave a piece of every
being in this made up universe
to search for one common mind
i could plant a sky in their brains
or even paint a picture for them to agree with
and pick apart their sanity embedded in their skull

am i feeling sense of self?
and am i able to agree with yours?
when my intellect leaves my body
and all that enters is my head are voices
talking, whispering to a
filthy conscience
"I know i am not meant to
exist forever but i am
willing to stay alive to question it"

His rusty doorknob moaned as it peeked open,
The glare from his synthesizer irradiated through the small crack
Yet trekking into my companion’s habitat, my eyes wander down a path
As I examined:
The creamy-white ‘65 Fender Jaguar strapped to his back, idolized like a son to his father
His scattered Rolling Stone magazines, strewn, across his clearly visible unmade bed
His imitation Bob Dylan wayfarers, rested gently on his nostril, accompanying a mischievous smile
And mountains of flannels that he claimed made him appear “*******” and “hipster” at the same time
Obscure in a corner, his preferred foreign films organized in a stack
North of his bed… hundreds of pictures of Lennon and McCartney, signifying his shrine and slight obsession with the 1960’s
To the left, his personalized skateboards, festooned with mainstream company seals and psychedelic band logos
The framed polaroid of us sitting effortlessly on his bedside table
And directly 12 o’clock: his father’s turntable spinning early Lou Reed, beside his collection of dusty records I granted him..

He’s sweet with sugar-coated lips
And succulent and dreamy: a warm hug,
I take a sip of my mug.
The love-hate relationship swirling inside my heart,
Coffee is desire.

Bitter at first; a war between my lips and the cup
And perhaps a bit pungent, a feeling of unrequited love
But addictive and sensual.
“Crashing” and needing another serving
To get a caffeinated love-buzz.

And if it’s doused with sugar,
Love is honey, dissolving in a saucer
And swimming in cream and infatuation.
Our flesh and blood dives into a mug
As it dives into the arms of an admirer.

as the petals descended
i journeyed to the market
swiftly, dr martens thundered
along the clear path
a distant smell of dutch waffles
filling nostrils, though i
had been distracted by the man
plucking the violin, its sound
almost weeping. admiring the nearby canal,
i took a breath of contentment.
serenity.

i can still taste the cigarettes on your breath,
my lips glued to the bottle. it was a new taste
to drown in. i didn't know you would be my river.
now i'm dried up, you left nothing behind
except your fingers that traced against my skin,
the skin you said was delicate as a flower because i
bruised so easily, the skin you said you would kiss
but my bruises have multiplied and join into into constellations
on my legs
and the memories of you are distant, but never will be
cloudy
and i always longed for you to show me what was worthy in the
cosmos, and manifest a sweet disposition to the flowers in my
brain
but i learned that though i am broken, i can still grow
because i know my soul is not to blame, but the anatomy
of his flooded judgment
makes me question why i ever let another being
sink inside me
i wish i never breathed you in

you are sunshine,
you made flowers grow inside
of me
just when i thought darkness had taken over

sleepless nights are calling
they end in measures, they refuse to leak dreams
i can feel a realm filling with rain
i can sense the universe overflowing
and i wander into nothing but grey matter
as ethereal, nothing is greeted in return
why do nights stream voices in my mind?
voices shouldn't leave me searching,
should they?

i don't believe in love at first sight
i believe in lust
your sight that fills my eyes
appeals me indescribably
my life is a travesty
unless i picture you in it
what a difficult task
with your considerable distance
i need water or i will remain
a blistering flame
lift me out of my limbo
concur with my existential mind
at the delightful prospect of meeting someone
new

those forgotten names whispered on occasion
the knee length charcoal black skirts
and the fabricated smiles exchanged by the hour
are all illusions
sewn together, instilled in our brain
they assure us of our dismal fate...
the publicized perception of "the great beyond"

lives that only exist in numbers...
blooming, thousands of white roses in heaven
our innocence and humility erupting
or summons to hell, all seven billion of us
as nothing more than a wilted dream.

our dystopian environment is fixated on what comes "after"
or the hue you want your casket to be
rather than the euphoria that is brought to us
only from the "now" we're submersed in
no one sees how much more we would prosper
if living was the single introspection for our soul

sometimes a void enters through dimensions
to search for an honest soul
craving not darkness but troubled minds
clouded with judgment
people wait behind doors / and are greeted with tears
because silence is haunted, yet shadowed by
frightened eyes