It is almost like the life that you are,
the tears that you tear apart
in your humble momentary stay,
disappear before you
and then you become someone else,
you become someone's new–
the apple of their eye

and when you are the happiest,
they die.

did you cry
when i choke life
and shove it down
to kneel before me

entry deleted -

i have heard of how problematic you were in school
how pale and skinny you were
how you once tried to jump from the third floor

take this water
sleep
and dream of me

you have garden of peonies on your eyes
and i have delayed kisses on my mind

i.
the autopsy proved negative
the bullet meant nothing

0.9 caliber with no mouth
pretty red-tainted stain on your tee

they say you took the sedative
two by the morning


ii.
before i drouth
let us go hunting

to a sepulcher with commemorative
decoration, and darling

you wouldn't have to keep your mouth
shut after we go on rampaging and quarrelling

I believe in redemption;
ten high-strung ******* in the air
raising flag of cold notices
and I realize that redemption was invited
so then leap us with our darlings
to the bunker where ****** lay cold
and new world heap stays
buried beneath our mother's armpits
that we left behind
for she had cold heart and warm skins
and we were still ungrateful, man

Just like our father, she said
with their flag raised of suspicion
and hatred in their eyes, reflected
but hatred itself is not enough and
it came closer by second
so we run to our shelter, stay low
and lay cold with our darlings

scratched, mauled,
heavily damaged, bad

cocky smile plastered
against dry blood

and shouted,
dead

Pray so that you could never be hurt again
Speak so that you could never be debated again
Listen so that you could never be ambushed again

and if you will, friend

Die so that you could never be killed again

how do i tell you
about the ducks by the pond that
we strolled on during evening’s prayer
with a promise of next time meeting
and mortifying stories as of late

and how do i tell you
that harsh as it may seem
the grass had turned pale green
and blossoms sprout into the ground
that none of this compares to you

and how should i tell you again
when i have to pack my bags and
send my daughter to college,
you were the one thing i have by me
and i slept onto your shoulder
weeping, but not in grief

but i will soon be
so how should i tell you
that i cherish the definite moments we share
and it seems naught to live
with the infinity in my back
haunting
restlessly
and maybe you should tell me,
with a wave or a smile,
that you feel the same way

‪I missed the moon, I missed the sea
- and most importantly‬

‪I missed her.

In a humble, restless, and romantic night, I thought;
I would wish you happiness, always.
Had it been drawn upon the lines of your age, crinkled
by years that had been grateful for your company
Let it be known that you were, are, and will always be happy

‪i think of you late at night,‬
‪in between grasps and gasps‬
‪of thighs that are beneath me‬
‪and they held me tight, secure‬

‪until the still of your reflections‬
‪are blurred by the orgastic current‬

‪and i sat still as a stone,‬
‪unturned‬
‪to the revelries of you‬
‪to a memory bygone‬
‪and i close my eyes‬
‪to a tomorrow where you don’t belong‬

you wanted to share the despair and addiction;
to eventually dip someone down, pull them
downward to descend with you; wanting,
needing to be understood and loved,
you need someone to pat you clean
raze you lovingly, graze kisses on top of kisses,
and casts them downward, leaving them a dust
in the wake of your recovery.

"My people refers to me as Adamant,"

Adamant, this
Adamant, that

Adamant, ruin their marriage.
Adamant, make the politicians **** one another.



"What do I get for being Adamant?"

Come here, Adamant
Stay away, Adamant

Chant me million of butterflies, Adamant.
Learn how to nurture, Adamant.



"But I will not be Adamant no longer,"

Adamant, this
Adamant, that

You will love yourself, darling.
Fostering kindred soul within us all.



"God bless you. Not me,"*

Adamant, darling
Adamant, dear

You are God.

Annie darling,

We may not be able to build the space ship you wanted
It's not that you weren't a good girl,
nor was it because you didn't pass the soccer trials

We may not also get you the hairpin you wanted,
the one encrusted in silver,
lined with satin
and chiseled by the finest sculptor

Once again, it wasn't because you forgot your homework
nor was it because you yelled at me


Annie darling,
We love you.

Just maybe not today.

Gold was the color of your ruse
and your words deify scorching stars into bloom
and you reek of rust — the finest yellow there was.

You worth more than a thousand golden crowns
and continent wide silks
and all the brighter, wilting stars in the dark
and had you pulled the universe to you,
it will surely crawl under your thigh
as a machination made only for you.

And you worth more than the ten thousand horses that I had slain
and I pulled them onto your sheets
as whispery faeries gnawed onto its skin
onto its slippery vein
gory, but lovely all the same.

Alas, you worth more than another ten thousand of them running
hooves clattered across the impenetrable glass of auroral dome
and I saw you rode on another ten thousand that had not deserve you-

as you deserved gold and stars
and all the greater fury of this land,
not treachery and I.
Gold was the color of your ruse
and your words deify scorching stars into bloom
and you reek of rust — the finest yellow there was.

the freakshow never ended
embitterment and disappointment that slowly
crept up my spinal cord
as the man in baggy pants shows his many modification—
Van Gogh-like, ethereal art of unconsciousness,

if we die together,
tonight, darling

if only genocide were to befall on us
rather than taking innocent mother
with their cooing babies that could've
i reckon,
build the world

Under the shade of the scorching sun,
in the afternoon that combed furs and satin down
was laid none other but a knight whose return longed true and hard.
His hand hidden under his head, scabbard devoid of curious metal,
and despite the graying lines on his face—a moor reminder that he no longer lunge like he used to—;
his smile was the brightest that day, and true, and longful,
that of which will be longed again for thousands of decades,

but he was not about to die, no.

Death is inevitable in his age, in his hand, in every waking moment he rode
unto battles that he could only won to restart again.
But he thinks not of death at the time,
neither acceptance nor reluctance were present to him.

And in the afternoon that combed furs and the washed out color of his hair,
he looked far ahead to the grassy hills, back turned against the bustling market,
before whispering quiet and content,
tight lips that barely speak now curled upwards, to mouth: “You will live.”

burned skin
charred eyes
mangled bones
patience running thin

granite legs
made to fall

dusty gray matter
inside the keg

wanting to rise,
wanting to drown
what difference would it make?

as a man he lay still
as a lover he goes still

my mother once foretold
that my overwhelming disgust
poured onto my skin and
patches of personalities
will put me on a gridiron
and wave me as a vapor heat
bearable, annoying, and
unwanted — but!

it is a process i forego
before i love the person
who will love me more than
i despise me

and that person is me

i am my wildfire
and i am my flood