Can you see the outcome on the wind
When the trees begin to dream
And we drift into states of imagination
Until I become handsome again
And laughing feathers resume their spiraling
We find concrete inspiration
In the mouth of a vacated pair of buildings
That sit in harmony waiting for you to invade them
What dreams may sing in your vacation homes
What words stolen become our anthem
When men let down their arms
And women see the stars
We become greater beings
Then we could ever have imagined

What you bring to me is like honey
I feel my love in the beauty of the day
When we have the afterthoughts of morning
Still burning in our bellies
We dare to dream a million openings
But when did we learn to speak in silence
And make passion fruit tear drops
Spring from our souls
We are shouldering too much responsibility
Behind the wondrous face of every flower
There are a million women and children crying
If we depart on time but arrive early
There are too many disappointments to unwind
And we must each defy these frozen dramas
When shadows melt in their tracks against the Sun
We are abandoned governments
Taken from one place to another
Like the Spring that wanders naked
Like lines of paint on a empty canvas
I have a voice formed in the coolest waters
A shallow pool of tears
Can never drown these disappointments
And though it cannot be purchased
Love still remains the most virtuous of poisons

We adore the hour
Of enduring madness
We are crude and cruel
Like tigers in the morning
We are food for the gods
Who stayed too long
And strayed too far
From their solitary pantheons
We are the shadows of Psyche
Tirelessly shorn from our bodies
We are retired armies
These conglomerates of hatred
Fed up with feminine values
We are salivating angst
We are manic depressive virgins
Your coercion is comical
This is evil incarnate
Sardonic solitude shrouds You
In it's vision-less vicissitudes
We are used to being used
And fed ignorance like food
We are bored and longing
For some muscles to flex
So we could attest to our problems
I contest your victory
And seek meaning in expression
Anger is reflexive yet still we beg to differ
Our questions are rejected
By an authority we entrusted
To naively negate our egos
We collect puzzles and never solve them
We form alliances with psychedelic buffalo
And smile while meditating butterflies chart
Their ancient transmigration patterns
We are pinnacles of virtue in vitriolic prisons

There is no need to agree with me
I see your love being used sparingly, as it is
We already share the same tree of life
And fuel is only as bright as the ultimate, really
We come from hundreds of angels wrestling
Welcoming the shared commodity of love
Back into our shattered skylines and economies
Consternation was constructed from dust
So we encrusted rubies and revolved on our butts
I trusted you to crush me correctly
Instead you became funny
And money fell from your fingertips
Now we bring humor to the dying
In lingering dreams of the aristocracy
Among the other moondancers
We alone fancy a rush of nothingness
When less than a decade ago
We could still find lookouts for our shadows
I resume the music as fumes drip vaporous
And campaigns to elect our democratic fathers
Are merely shambles of something
That once enraged us but now just ramble on forever
Until we can't wait to end all this target practice
But we are still mere artifacts of human hammering
Instantly building our secret languages
Where we will speak nothing but tired gibberish
To a enlightened community of solipsistic symbolists

The projector is a woman
A human
A dreamer
Made out of jumper cables and breadcrumbs
Your thumbnails are tumbling
Head over heels to meet her
We see the sharpened glass
And as fast as we can cash out
We make a run for the patio
A ladder up the stairs
With hatred in our hands
And nothing left in our hearts to sell
We are accompanied by monkeys
And men in tuxedos
A loose cannon blooms
And shoots through the wall
A canopy collides
With a visually challenged individual
How are you so full of persuasion, she asks
A mix of liberation and a margarita
I am dreaming of the ocean
A perfect place to lie in the sun and dry off my shoulders
With common purpose
We surf the sound of metaphors crashing
In flashes of crayons
And wet paint sprayed haphazardly
We explain our philosophy to the gravediggers
We keep waking them
Until our hourglasses need fixing
We are shifting in our sandals
And refolding our blankets every hour
The old magic is tangled in your hair
And I just can't stop staring at you
Are you really even here
I hope you don’t mind
That the winter is alive with the sound of nature
We are naturally blinded by infrared romantics
Yet bound to find our souls in the middle
Our blood is equipped with spit and spirit
And it fits right into our heart
We are shifting stratospheres
For there was a lonely place here
Even before the earth appeared, forever naked
We are infiltrating the epicenter of the universe
A purposeless poem
Lost in the wind
Folded to begin with
Now we are unfolding
Opening
Unraveling, traveling
Our trembling fingers tenderly touch
Yet we must not rush
Or we're likely to make a mistake
We're better off avoiding

Poems boiling
Inside vast cauldrons
Of space and time
Tethered to forms
And feelings
We are getting ready
For our healing
Hands are bound
To supple bodies
Loud as laughter
It echos above
And beyond
The night sky
We are triumphant mountains
Pounding tirelessly
On our stomping grounds
And telling stories
Of our ancestors
Birthing fiery dragons
Are we merely
Semi-articulate monkeys
Desperately climbing
Towards the tender treetops
Of imperceptible self-realization
Patiently awaiting
These situations
To change
For the better some day
Its eventually inevitable
What a lesson
These impressive
Digressions
And diversions
Distracting me unequivocally
Still I apologize
For all these unnecessary formalities
We are abstract beings
Often too quick to eradicate anomalies
And aliens were bad for business
So long ago we decided
To swim in our visions instead
Witnessing children
Being punished
For abruptly speaking
Truthful wisdom
We are innocent
And sedated
Medicated with hesitation
And frustrated desires
We are shirtless statues
Manifesting virtuous actions
Yet still saddled with guilt
And vituperative resilience
Tears and laughter fill the skies
Mindful of our highest desire
We share these sheets
Of Egyptian paper
Within the fiery chambers
You chase angels
And make shadows dance
Until there is no more
Room for roman candles
To burn lonely and triumphant
Upon the Colosseum
Of our bedroom floor

[1] truly, i belong to no one. but unfortunately, my heart keeps yearning for love. i believe it does not make me a desperate woman. for me, it only proves that at the end of the day, we all covet attention, touch, sweetness, and love, of course. if i have given the chance to keep the ones i felt a connection with, i thought maybe, i can fix few parts inside their soul that would make it work. but they proved themselves that they're just a season - and i wish they weren't.

[2] they came barging in, questioning themselves. what have they done long-ago or who they truly are? the eloquence denotes an adoration. they threw pebbles in the fountain and wished a happy ending, illustrating the comfort and triumph we could get. no, they didn't say the endless possibilities. just that. indecision arises within and the injustice won, and just like in everyday life, it occurs often. it's humiliating to admit how i almost drowned in the lake where i supposedly am only wearing a silver lining but instead, i wore a discolored crown and a cheap jewel. nevertheless, i giggled, of course; who wouldn't? oh yes! my future self will call it deceptive. but isn't it?

[3] i saw a blotch of paint on my arms. a raspberry bruise on my knee slowly vanishing as i tried to stroke the brush onto the white canvas. the art is looking more forlorn than it was thirty-two minutes ago despite the cerulean clouds and ginger-colored paint dripping. there's a feeling of dissatisfaction that seems to linger—no, let me rephrase that. it’s like a sting in my heart, just like how needles can abruptly make your fingers bleed, or how someone can touch your soul except they can swiftly **** you twice. shut your eyes or shut the door? would you even dare to choose? i cleared my throat before picking up the paints on the floor. if this is a dream, i will not protest.

[4] the deities, whom i described as righteous, superior and unbeatable, declared a plague where humans become bellicose. in a piece of paper, i wrote it all down and carry it in my pocket every now and then. i believe this is how we, the mortals, should be; someone who has a sense of right and wrong. but the latter ones love contradicting the divine. so i guess, this is a sentence. i told them no! i will never be one of them! but i cannot decipher their faces. there's a slight uncertainty on the surface because of my undeniable convictions. i am a woman, after all.

[5] i believed in rainbow-like reality. my soul grew up in a household full of love, trust and maybe a few adventurous spirits. the clash of unfair judgment and misconception doesn't seem to matter. we're all different, point taken. yet, it did not disrupt the petals budding in meadowland; something i pictured in my head when i was five or seven years old. i simply believed in love, and loving them could be the ultimate cure to wounded hearts. for me, there are no bad people, only a damaged one.

[6] i tried to soften my heart. again and again and again. but it seems useless. do they enjoy betraying the trust? do they like sinful beginnings? do they love being an untrustworthy person? i cannot fathom their reasoning and logical thoughts. apart from the fact that they make my heart aches, terribly, they think dominance is the only way for me to think that they're in control - and that's the most disgusting thing.

[7] my ears cannot disregard the heavy steps between the whirlwinds that disturb the bushes. i've talked to the owls last night and they said you were wide awake the whole night. they told me how frustrated you were with how things turned out. how awful! you know i can't call the ambulance - not because i can't do anything about, but because i really don't want to.

justice hurts when truth prevails. suffocating, isn't it?

[8] i have no idea how to swallow my bruised ego. excuse my ignorance - does it sound foolish? coming from the mouth of a woman laying her head down, scorned repeatedly by the hands who willingly pushed the wine barrels from the top of the hill, resulting in unstoppable motion.

my cardigan tenderly wrapped around my body, i felt the skin cuts, the remorse for letting you all in, the storm brewing, sorrow - all at once.

don't you dare tell me i did not even try!

Words have a way of speaking to you
As if you could create meaning from objects
That fall like feathers from the tops of buildings
Could we collect the silence and place it in our bodies
Subjective fingers are bringing you eager categories
And seekers of feeling harbor no jealousy
We are those treetops in need of new itineraries
When our airline tickets fit together quite nicely
Could you believe the world is made from mind
While the majority of beings remain hungry
For the shining light which binds us to our spines
Without rhyme we’d all be lost
And rhythm is the cost of our consciousness
But first we must fatten our ducks and turkeys
And take the dog for a good long walk
We saw more than we could ever hope to talk about
And I hear the sound of ambulances and police sirens
Chasing angels through these forests
We seem to always forget who we are
And every time we talk too much about anything  
The world becomes just a little bit more lonely