He creeps near to the foot of my bed
With that smirk
Oh he's come to cocoon me away to his army
Of dented men
With cropped souls

He asked
But never said please
To come with him
Where it's warm
I shook my head

He persuaded me
But never said please
To come with him
Where gems trickle down your face
I said no

He insisted
But never said please
To come with him
Where his home was
I refused

He forced me
But never said please
To come with him

When a comforting light pierced through my eyes

I couldn't see what it was
For it was far too beautiful
It sheered the man away

It was so modest
So against the beauty of living
Of looking, of tasting
It was a stoic;
Passionless

It was like the water
So against the grains of sand
Of dirt, of ink
It was a stoic;
Calm

It was so indifferent
So against the pull of pleasure
Of sin, of feeling
It was a stoic;
Strong

It was like god
It was god
For nothing
Would come close
To freeing the devil off the foot of my bed.

Girl turns three on a homemade cake
She had candy balloons and plastic grass bits
Toy princesses and marscapone rakes
And mom burnt her finger because she forgot the mitts

Girl turns five on a store bought cake
This time it was shaped like jack and jill
And she wondered if it was a fake
It was the month mom got ill

Girl turns seven on a cupcake
And mom could barely get up let alone bake
Dad taught her baseball that week
She peeped at her parents through the little door creak

Mother.
Other.
Her.

Girl turns nine on a chocolate bun
Mom gave her blessing through the grave
That was the year dad knew no fun
And they kept telling her to be brave

Girl turns eleven on a self made cake
Mom was back but her ******* were fake
Dad was googly eyed, yes
He neglected that his baby was depressed

Girl turns thirteen on a seven layered cake
It was all this posh she couldn't take
This year new mommy and daddy started fighting
And she'd turn up the music and dim the lighting

Girl turns sixteen on a birthday card
This year, dad started drinking
And life felt hard, really hard
Deep down she knew she was sinking

it's the morbid fear to tickle the pen against paper -
and behold; the fear to connect the matchstick to the taper
to stay on, till the sun shoots
to pick out thoughts, from their roots

counting syllables and rhyming words:
they don't matter much.
for look at the birds
they put freedom on  your heart with a single touch

no
i can't rhyme no more no
my continuum is hampered
by your wholesome self oh so patient
quatrains and dissection no
feelings and love

and how i mutter words
this is how you make me feel, boy

incoherent yet filled with passion
i can't think but i managed a few adjectives for you
this is how you make me feel, boy

you bewilder me
and
oh
-

Row words through the riverous air -
The poison in your papers

Pituitary glands in the sun -
Solar sweat

The ripping in your repetition;
The cracking in your cranium.

i could spend my life in utter awkwardness
watching my brothers smoke and my sisters cry
aunties smiling and prolonging straightforwardness
my ***** cousins won’t ever say hi

i could spend my life sitting at the corner writing poems
about these drap people who refuse to stay in their homes
the kids would play hide and seek
the mannequins with heads up until it’s too awkward to not speak

skinny waists, blackened eyes, and porcelain faces
daru desi banging loud; turning us deaf
high heels; no flats no laces
horrible is the food beautifully prepared by the chef
(who, by the way, thinks we're unbelievably uncivilised)

i see them drenched in forgettum juice
they’re deep in drunken oblivion, you see
it’s incredible - when they say ‘let loose’
’cause their eyes pry when you let yourself free

the ladies enjoy their liberation;
those poor oppressed dearies
no more doting on their husbands in juxtaposed veneration
they give a grave attempt to personify their reveries

the men enjoy pelvic thrusting
they’re sly crooks who love lusting

i guess i’ll be alright;
for a mere few minutes, if i’m out of sight

A door in the mind blows open -
It floods with grey matter
And hot stares.

Ashes of darkness
Coupled with
Tears of growth

This is incomparable.
Roller-coaster rides
And unrecognisable mirrors;

We've steeped into a portal of surrealism:
With sins and judgement calls that question
The very essence of our hearts.

I really do not want to grow up.

I'm a pair of pigtails who can't
Climb up a step.
Push me, push me, but I can't reach.

When I feel my faith restored
In the overlap
Of green scenes and dental dexterity -
I can only think of one line to combust me:

*"He's just being nice."

And we will never know what it's like to crave the essence of youth back in a vial;
Because youth was never something we understood anyway

Each premeditated; careful move -
Each calculated.

Serendipity.
Fake laughter .
We're too self conscious.
There are too many of us.

And sometimes I long for a past that isn't even mine:
I miss the things I've never had.

I'm wasting away my days -
Waiting for my life to begin.
Hoping; that each freckle-strapped face
Would show me the way

Give me serenity.

Today's a-come, another afloat
A thousand things you didn't know,
Before you. The wires above,
The stills are hollow.

You breathe in and out
In segments. Crescents
Below your eyes. Oceans
In the stars.

We are uncontrollable.