Not your name
Not your nationality
Below all the fame
Below the unreality
Deep down
Who are you?

Forget your license
Forget your authorization
Forget your conveyance
Forget every legal documentation
Now tell me
Who are you?

Deep down in the dark room of your empty soul
Deep down below your average conscience
There are only the things you put there yourself  
All your unused options
And the unanswered questions
like 'Who are you?'


Deep down below
There are only feelings
All your feelings
That you chose to confine
But it really doesn't matter who you are deep down
Because nobody carries around a shovel all the time.

Anger, is the steaming red on her face
refusal creates in an instance;
jealousy is foaming green
profusion of colors in motion
takes this dance for them to upward
and downward turns,
or a sudden dissolution---
an intense ****** in unison.
Even in darkness he  can see the
spasmodic ebbing waves
sleep is the banana plantation
where night wears translucent green
"nobody would see us here"
she whispers in his ears,
as if they are thieving ***,eyeing
the yellow banana she likes, to play with

Purple is the psychedelic color
smeared on horizon when
dreams repeatedly fly down
like night bats and happen
the way mind designs
we don't want to leave the scene
of the dream even when we know well
that the show for us is now over
we just want to hang around
like the dog,  in the place
it  got a juicy bone.

Yellow is the banana song
that's heard as wave after wave,
by the blind bat squadron
that roams with raw aggression,
for raids above the plantations
Unripe bananas show green fingers
to say "NO! we aren't ripe"
like coy underage virgins.

Then, they ripen, go yellow
some even bright red, inviting
who is blue here is the sky
and those bats who got
the bananas still raw green

Night decents on the banana land
as the white umbrella of sun
is snatched by the dark maiden.
Black is the bat's wing extending
and folding like lust, umbrella and the like.

He finds her shivering fingers like a serpent,
on the banana trunk slithering down,
as he dreams bats, banana, blue sky
and she slithering over him.

When he kisses me, I wonder what it's like to kiss you and when he holds my hand I can't help but wonder what it would be like to have your hand intertwined with mine and I know that I shouldn't be thinking about you. Not when I'm with someone else but his eyes don't shine as bright as yours do, his lips aren't stained bright pink and he doesn't say my name the way you used to. I feel guilty for not feeling guilty about the fact that I try to fill the empty hole in my chest with other men simply because you're so far away I can't even reach for your hand. I'm sick of writing poems about boys who I could not care less about because it won't help me get rid of you. You're halfway across the globe falling in love with a different girl every night and I bet you no longer think of me, but I sure as hell think of you. It doesn't matter if I am reading or writing or planting kisses all over someone else's neck. You are always on my mind.

Baby, let's break the world.
We'll hum a symphony
and skip stones across mountains
while we smoke cigarettes rolled with desire.

We'll bottle the oceans
and sell them for $1.99 a piece
while we turn diamonds to liquid sand
that's capable of softening these innumerable miles of asphalt into fields of yellow.

Let's break the world, my love.
We'll show the universe that we are more than just tiny flecks of flesh forced to live and be bound by the rules of fragile glass.

Let's break this Godforsaken world
and leave it to rot.

i stay awake late
contempleting the possibility of decoding the illustrative lyrics
      spoken between my head and my heart

my wheels keep turnin' circles

     still
it's a start