"Perhaps, we are the people who met each other at a time warp, that's why we are still existing in this millennium."
It's like my heartbeat has been cursed by twenty lifetimes; I would trade all my days, even if it turns from epoch to eon, I will always come back to you.
"we are the time travelers"
What on Earth
took you? Do we dare land?
A lark of descension. An aborted beginning.
Captain is dead
at the controls.
Mother gives birth in the airlock.
Trouble in the passageways.
A struggle to name it.
A drink before eclipse.
All that's wrong with the world
sounds like harmonium in the (wishing) well.
First flight over Hölderlin's Archipelago,
creating new and stranger versions
in the sandclouds.
So this is
Life without a trace.
Non-terrestrial Martian field.
Halcyon flowering seas. A rock with no trees,
no urban hopes.
Yet, the whole universe inside
wants to be touched.
I love you in zero gravity,
pushing tender buttons.
*** as solution.
A kiss of atmosphere.
This alien womb.
Those android embargoes.
Our children are born echoes of astronauts.
their first words.
There's a lightspeed sensibility
to this type of marriage and parenting:
no leaving the hub,
no exit procedure.
The Sol they sing
is a harm hymn,
subject to the ladder and the weight of breath
this outside Earth.
But I love you in the veil of a twilight moon.
burned into moments.
Moments without a beyond.
On my exploration, there are still secrets
that kept under my sleeves; it would be a
twisted knife in my defenseless night.
Between the heaven and sea,
there are traces of him, keeping me
haunted and wandering at it.
Between the orbs and galaxies,
we're building towers,
we're praying and pleading for a myriad miracles,
I nestled gently on his lips,
it was all downhill.
They used to call me "ethereal" but I never imagined
the way it feels like, until the time came I told you,
you were ethereal
You were heavenly yet detrimental
as it is only meant to be whispered
in the heights and distance.
Parts of his existence:
A vessel; is a magic that flows through its veins— the color of my cheeks and the color of his madness
A certainty; all flesh and bone, sutured and bruised; we can be made of cracks, somehow.
and my heart, he had it all as black holes grew in my chest (as if the vacancies could be filled by his existence)
for me, he is insatiable
as I was always heartless.
She romanticize the orchestra of her muffled cries, caught her canvases
bruised with purple and red,
Her bare chest was beautifully wounded by a serrated cage, arranging her disorganized open heart.
Her heart is malleable from tragic delights,
she ripped herself open, willing to give it whole.
Will you take it all and leave it as it is? a buried dead. Does it oblige you
to wrap your arms around me like a tightening noose?
And as she draw marks of red stains and carve on her skin, her limbs were perched perfectly, as you adore it with a painful stare.
And her hands were pure certainty, remained untouched.
Note: might trigger self harm, u can skip it <33
I see faces and flowers
on loose pages—
it smiles at me from
a crumpled paper, addressed
to the fire, its embers were
keeping it ablaze.
How happy it was to paint the
room blue in the middle of summer,
dancing through the sound of the creaks
under my footsteps— everything is just right.
How treacherous it was, a wistful memory
they were remnants of unsettled stories
and unforgiven departures; I stood
on a shipwreck
where everything is a lost.
the uncertainty would be tall
and I am more will for the fall,
are these things crosses your mind?
I wouldn't bear crossing out your name.
This is how we paint room blue; creeping
on the cracks of the floor, memorizing your
gaits as I follow your traces.
i decided to re-write this one. it was published four years ago, and time really changes my perception to this.