slight echo footfalls
fluttering escape of breath
cool cerulean breeze
gnarled tree leaning too keen
in the brilliance of the waning sun
black, scorched branches
twisted cruel trunk
crackling like struck obsidian
by the lightening rod of thought,
gifted with moving feet
shuffling in one direction
but to breach the swimming sky,
peeking closer
shadows careening towards
my feet, so I can't see
where I am stepping anymore,
a stone gargoyle
fixated like a barn owl
eroded eyes and mistaken beak
moss blanketing like heavy
screaming clouds,
this stone owl
imprisoned within the tree
the loveliest sight I could find,
it's almost night now
and the light is growing dimmer,
the slightest green buds
dwell on the withered branches,
yet the sun has past
the owl mistaken for a ghost
held within the throne
withered to bone
but I think the flowers
will grow like before,
the buds have swelled
night is falling
can I please sleep
at the trunk of this tree
so upon the breaking morrow
the sun will shine
and I can smile
when I look up
and see the buds
flower of such
humble desires

a lung full of pride
and delicate wipes of strife
a lonely beloved awaits this night
for a single beam of flaming light  

oceans toil and swell intimacy
each breath preserved with spell
a single outcrop a lighthouse stood
trailing its light for those misunderstood

misfits charity they blew along north
sway restlessly relentlessly upon frothy shores
eyes filtered films fog chicanery cancer
which have eroded away fruitless dancers

a thousand chipped wooden crates
nestled bodies hidden in darkness, await
this light which beams high above sea
beholds rehabilitation the key

those songs are always about somebody else

I've told myself not to be so worrisome

that life is what happens when I am not
paying attention

the dirt underneath my fingernails

the way my hair flutters in the breeze

the avalanche tumbling thousand of miles away

the laughter bellowing in an empty stairway

the shudder of breath upon a doorstep

the clicking of keyboards in another's bedroom

the realization dawned that time, that emotion, that next day

is irreversible

is irreplaceable

That inexplicable hum
At the ceasless sight
My bones creaking
That all we be
Quite alright,
they dare to live in divine
apart from vernacular stare
they sit apart from the crowd
Comfortable in believing
the impossible which is not
always there,
they feel it in their bones
these vessels of their souls
I want to be like everything like them
Even if my bones creak
louder than they should
yet that is quite good,

My bones didn't even move

Perhaps the music blasting in our ears

The sidestep glance across the bakery counter

The honk of horns zooming fluorescents down the street

The gentle mummur of garlic sizzling on pans

The crunch of rich Italian bread soaked in olive oil

The sweat of leather soles

The mystifying fogginess as one touches a cheek

The relentless sputter of summer rain

The crackle of a brilliant smile

And noiseless or brimming with spectacles

We are most afraid of absolute silence

For that suggests our inability

To be a part of something

Bigger than ourselves

maybe here, here is something
a puddle lukewarm and thinning
as the cracks in the pavement
tremor in the running wind,
running leaves and running colors
dappling with a blissful laughter,
I reach my hands out and grasp nothing
and everything combs through
my tiny, tired fingers,
I breathe and taste the sweet air,
I look down and feet is no longer there,
I am a float, here,
here where something can be

what do you expect?
In all the things I do
in such as collage of a person's dream initiation
what kind of things leave you in sweet appreciation?

who do I call, my mom?
my brother, my father, sister and that dude on the street corner
in fact a completion of four blank corners
achieves nothing but to a getaway box of concealment  

wait, that's not what I meant
to say,
to do,
what I ought to be,
*******, society
what are you thinking of me?

Why is it that your thoughts justify
that a ballroom of hot gaseous stars
rooted in a seventeen year old dream
is nothing but hallucinations of a childhood...

you make me want to scream

what makes you think any better
to take, a list of vocabulary as mode of expression
people smirk at the reflection in transition
yet in a world gone of such things
you try to mumble, stumble, tumble
on your own tongue
as nothing retreats
and substitute it with useless prepositions  

blank stares on blank fat faces
greasy slicked tongues attached to an ugly wrought of body
stop stuffing your face with social media
our lives are capable of much more authenticity
stripes red, white, and what, green?
I'll make it whatever I want it to be

you say I am wasted away
that thought, that havoc, that pleasant furnace
well thanks a lot
to you, my thoughts are burnt out
like a light bulb in a dark room of four blank corners

channeling riot thoughts onto paper to screen
composed in depths of my dead weight backpack
crumpled under the weight of text books
explaining how we should live better
and how I am suppose to be  

well it's my mission to live outside of conformity
and as words fly in class, in halls
first only to myself, then vulnerable to the audience of you...
wait, virtually the entire world?

understand these words are as raw as lemon
fueled by thoughts, cynical, you can reckon
and **** as my teenage mind, naive
just like the shadows of you and me

understand these are reflections
we are starry magicians in the game of complexity
constantly fluctuating upon gravel grounds
it stems from existence we label into nouns  
we string words together
and if nobody else ever reads this
who cares?
your name is the last thing we'll
care to pronounce

The soft splutter of rain
gentle glimmer of twinkling golds
the softest touch of dreams
and the cool breath of midnight swoon

Swiftly carry my troubles away
far into the reaches of the moon
kiss the pain away from my knuckles
sore from battling all my woes

people come in and out
of my life

like a shower of sparks

what is erased?

what leaves a brilliant streak?

forever

a blazing red ****
and flaming red hair
the music bashed
bones rattled and lips preyed in chances
we sang in the electrified night
tonight, our chorus belongs
to our sights
reflected by the drops
we call classified rejects

feet stampede
hands praised in air
a tangible element
a tangible chorus
the melodies arctic
as voices run coarse

a sea of fists saluting
the red **** a humble ferocity
a single note prances
washes over a thousand eardrums
as that chorus, a thunderous clash

the heart of sound
thumps against the cage in our chests  
wanting to break
claw out of cynical throats
and as sweat trickles down our bodies
sound plasters to our skin

lights flash
a mesmerizing aurora gone rogue
like cameras of new and few
capturing the moment
of raw ethnicity
of our younger generation
in all of its rebellious reasoning

an isle of blinded birds
walked before the red ****
searching for that truce
that happy medium
away from skeptics of wrinkled faces
vessels carrying our souls
without capacity written in stone

and as that red **** thrashed
a marvelous sight of beauty
for once the generation
a thousand demographics
a thousand thoughts and dreams
tonight, we come as one
unified as winds carry us on
we will sing, we will purge
we are the younger generation

and we will remain as we are

Crackling, still sheet
Of coffee stained paper
The ink scribbled
Smudged, leaving
A hazy blue residue
The fragrance floats, pleasantly
With this coffee stained note
It rings with truth
Syllables stained
With coffee beans
And laughter

the crackling string of voices
running, streaking through
the clamor of trees, creaking
through  the night's chilly breeze,
I see, I see that I don't know
where I am going,
only that trailing the stars
with set of blazing graze
crashes into the divine sky,
perhaps that is where the
the voices are spilling from,
those monstrously loud chorus
of staggering heart beats,
clambering with lunar-soaked fire
as I search for a home where I can burrow,
to pick the earth form my fingernails
on conclusion of a long, long day
to know that the small paradise
is a home which I belong

I've been told to do a particular favor
a peculiar one,
like a post-it stuck underneath
the surface of the desk
do a favor and run a hand
down the underside
ignore the gallant arrangement
of hardened bubble gum
there is a post-it
with a lost message
so I have been told
I took the post-it
and found a single word
written "Hello" in pencil
in the most awful handwriting
and I took a pen and wrote
a greeting below
sticking the post-it back where
I found it. And the next day
I found the pencil erased
so all that was left was my
own "Hello."
and I could never figure out
quite why that was so

Another fraction of a second
Slimmer of sun's glints
Clashing with the jewels
Running, streaking
Of the sweetest melodies
Thundering head held high
Glimpsed into another galactic universe
Sublime which cannot deny
That the moment a breath
Teetering before the summit sunsets
Breathes onto a cold glass pane
So one can trace one's soul
Feel the gorge of beating hearts

when I was saved from
       the thicket picketed with thorns
               and soon the sun receded behind
                      the triple peaks of then, now, and yet to be
                               you howled into the glowing period
                                     vast, sparkling and combing the lands
                                            could I have grabbed your hand,
                                                 where the warmth stays and hearts flutter
                                                        and feet walk in sync past, now, and yet

the cushioned seats and inflated beats
the window cracked and the slippery December chill
glanced into our sitting like quiet falling leaves
as the sun descended behind the swollen green hill

the exasperated haze of a cerulean film
a lungful of our smitten reels
a crack of laughter to follow soon after
with silence ringing like clear warm water

simply sitting with knees tucked in
our hearts soaked with the softness of the moment
our chatter rustling like those December leaves
as our half-glanced smiles lift into the beat

A second degree flight
Flown caution to the winds
Heaved from the lungs I’ve blown
In case the scrapers came crashing down
Those towers, see those towers
Far into the distance
Twinkling at the murmur of dusk
Sparkling with the ray of sun bright
A second degree estimation
To the gratification swelled on my tongue
My heart is tumbling, I swear it is
Those crisscrossing lines, paved lives
Changed minds and hesitant differences
Revolving affection and careless individuality
A Clementine held snugly in my palms,
It tasted so sweet and crisp,
Like the way the sky felt
Warm and orange on my eye lids
As I listened to the shift of a new beginning

happy eyes, shining ethereal
upturned mouths, now sinking too fast
shaky hands
tight chest
clotted mind
these frames of life
hidden descriptions
of a delightful person
mistreated translations
she's less magnificent
just brilliantly human
like you and I
almond brown eyes
bitten bottom lip
cluttered words
sore chin
and ***** nails
she's tougher
than you
know

****
the ice cream
is entirely eaten
I needed that
when I got
home

a cynical eye glimpses
down into the barrel
terrified at first
what to find at the bottom
there was a great quake
a thundering shudder
of such mighty shakes
hands slips on the rusted rims
leaving traces of red imprints
where fingers ran
up and down sharp cheeks
and across the forehead
dusted with coat of hope
this barrel since looked down into
speaks without wanting to
a barrel full of water
left forgotten amidst trees and garden
lush greens and rainy skies
leaving paths muddy to tread
yet stumble on, keep the hood up
a jacket zipped too, to keep the warmth in
the barrel of water, glimpse down
down and down
a mirror, water so still
the raindrops can't even ripple
the face set in stone

a flutter of keys
chiming on the piano
beautiful, melting
fusion of melodies
warmth spreading
in that soreness
wedged in my chest,
tugging at the empty
gauge left aloof

a girl blows out a candle
and the darkness envelopes
silhouettes pressing in corners
comes rushing in, cursing, hissing,
screeching

this girl sees herself in the mirror
cropped hair, bare neck
brown eyes, full lips
and she screams in frustration
not at herself
but at the world which bustles around her

ceaseless, ruthless, a consistency of paradox
as greed shapes in form of monetary crosses
and twisted women urge less for best
until skin melts away to bone
and bodies transmitted into test scores

this insignificant girl
fights her battle day after day
and weeps the joy out from her veins
she has learned to blow out the candle
and to realize she is nothing in the world
nothing,
nothing but her image of self love