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EJ Aghassi Sep 2019
this feeling that thrives
neither dead nor alive
is not something
to be taken lightly,

a cardinal sin
with no near end
begins, and there is
ruin left

for you and yours.
this feeling is different,
mostly if you let it,
like scraping down
the side of an
aluminum can

that's skyrocketing
towards some other

depth, neither
within the realm
of touch.
where has sense gone? where does it thrive? is it breathing? is it alive?
EJ Aghassi Aug 2019
Heavy rain shatters the earth.
Reflective shards fly upwards,
Spelling out the meaning of life.

‪The chemical reaction,
The purple end of Winter
‪Molding the
Silent cascade.

Exchanging shoulders on
The park bench, wind
Wiping away the strands
Of history from her face.
Trees dripping with sweat,
Leaves rustling and buzzing
Around our earlobes
As the forbidden skyline
Sings in black and white.

Orange light finding me
Again within the kaleidoscope,
Scattering a distant caress.
The world bending and
And breaking to compliment
The shape of my aching eyes.

In this prism I’m witness to
Every crime, I savor every
Love etched into the sharp
Edges of every lost soul.
I smell the ashes of
A fallen empire;
I hear the wax sigh of the last man
Sitting across from an empty seat
When the bar lights come on
outside of time, inside some space
EJ Aghassi Jan 2019
Moving from zone to zone
My sense of home now
Carries your scent.
I walk along
The dimmed sun rays and
Find a new feeling in the morning dew.
A feeling unfamiliar, uncomfortable
Yet similar to the only thing
I’ve ever wanted sits with me
In the living room.

My feet remember the feeling of gravel,
Of jagged stone caught, scratching skin.
They recall carrying me along,
Fluttering freely with the wind at my back.
I've learned that
Love is like the loose gravel
That gets caught in between your toes.
It is the wind that pushes you along.
Other times it is like a vine
Intertwining with another in cosmic symbiosis.
Sometimes it is like cheap linen that bleeds
Its color when it is washed negligently.
Sometimes love crackles like a cat in your lap.
Sometimes love is a sleepless night.
Love is like drinking enough water
Before you fall asleep drunk.
It is also waking up with a permanent marker
On your face, because you fell asleep drunk.

Sometimes love is like plunging your feet
Deep into the soil.

But most importantly, love is close enough
To being led home safely by moonlight.
love time life eyes dark moonlight close sleep free
EJ Aghassi Apr 2018
The green beans let out a sigh. Their
Fear simmering in their salt. At
That moment, that sigh gave in to
A similar fear, the fear of one very
Unfortunate group of coffee beans,
Next to be ground up and drank, right
In front of their brethren, who will
Also sigh in fear because there is
Nothing else that they can do
But sigh in fear. At that point,
The man, the monster that causes
Beans to sigh in fear, drinks the
Blood of those beans that sigh,
Those beans that fear, and he
Himself will sigh in contentment,
In a lack of fear, because he has
No idea that he himself is nothing
More than a bean, not actually
Any greater than a green bean,
A coffee bean, or just about any
Other kind of bean; the only
Real difference is that man is
The only bean that affords the
Luxury of exercising presence of
Mind to choose how and when
They sigh; in the face of fear, or
Reveling in their complete and total
Lack of general acknowledgment.
This stemmed from an in-class activity.
I had to use the words "bean", "fear" and "sigh" at least seven times.

Somehow I ended up with this expression of the human condition.
Listen, my son: the silence.
It's a rolling silence,
a silence
where valleys and echoes slip,
and it bends foreheads
down toward the ground.
EJ Aghassi Mar 2018
Lovers circle
Their glass Sabbath.
Hands like magnets

Find joy in funeral.
Death of ***, a
Tornado of fire,

Of the senses. The
Asteroid that shed

Her dress now crashes
Into the cactus, standing
Stone-faced and rooted

Deep in Earth.
Ordinary planets
Ring saint birth

On Thursday. Angels,
Paperclip assassins, rope
Bankers and truck drivers-

The ribs of Utah in the winter.
The cage that guards
A snowglobe heart. Mid-

Center shiver shaking,
Continental breaking
And aching, the shallow

Foundation of
Some growing space,
Suspended in static

Tribute to the ideal.
The cactus now this
Blank-faced man,

Sick framed mannequin
Dressed in scarlet
Remembrance, knee-deep

In strained white somber.
Sweet pair of sobbing,
Feeling faith found again

In the rain that water-
Logs the gasping pores
Of some colliding flesh,

Vibrating and ringing
Warm cold as the starlight
in your hair. You fish me

From your hairbrush
At the wake of cosmic
Death. Downstream, the

Next of kin of now fallen star
Whirl and cross, clasped in
Stellar embrace until

They splatter the gray stains
Of memories past upon
This cheaply made scene,

The spread of this mute
Moonlight; This obsidian
Distance is a well.
Turns out I'm a surrealist at my core.

Any and all feedback or support would be greatly appreciated.
EJ Aghassi Mar 2018
Emulating the

Silk phantom of your flesh

Wind is whispering through
These orange trees,
The distance of touch
Now fermenting in the grove,

Breathing in
Air heavy in wanting,
Singing the shape
Of the blossoms that sit
In their pretty graves

I long to be lost within that labyrinth,
The eternity from ear to ear,
Painting the walls within your mind,
Striking deeper crimson,
Mixing in our black-blue hours,

Another voice to haunt,
A feeling to hunt down
And set free,
Another cold crack in my smile

A crackling like the brittle bones
You break and warm yourself
With, as snow piles around you,
Following the soft footsteps
That echo like the memory of a storm

Dragging time away,
You left a blizzard in your wake

But now I feel as though I gained a friend
In this shivering that holds me so close
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