Allure to me with your bonescent,
sweat stench brought me closer.
Bone structure kept you here.
In my radius you stayed.

So nearly an artist, fickle.
Dearly departed, I miss you.
Brittle.

And I just kept saying no;
I couldn't handle you.
You must've miss understood the tone;
outspoken through the mandible.

Now I was out of my mind,
Insane at best.
Out of the body experience from inside the mind of the cranium.
Actually you were caught in cult of her anatomy.
First born in the ossification of you.

The next time he spoke,
awoken a sentiment.
The exoskeleton protected what was hiding inside.
And we decayed decayed.
His skeleton exposed; he grew on me like bones of a child.

And I've known his scent still sticks to my shell.
Under my skin and underground,
in the catacombs.

But only bones sent me here.
Just to snap back to reality

i see you in the Philippines.
east of the sunrising,
colliding with my thoughts.

Taught differently to me.
yet a breath of fresh air.

How you living over there?

Not like me,
i guess,
Wondering whats it like in Manila,
Sat here in London,

Were not far in mind,
but far in land.

Not far in skin colour either.
And we probably believe in different things.

My life embargoed.

Would we trade places?
I don’t know.

This one is for Paolo,

The crystal ball see’s the future;
Cristablo.

X

we take long drags
of each others skin,
the addiction comes
in phases.
day 1: my lungs sigh, weary,
air does not satisfy,
day 2: we're chasing
lifelines, that are rusted
and in vain
day 5: bad habits are
hard to break, beg, at the
holy altar of our mistakes
day 8: hands desperate,
clammy, unfurl
like belladonna palms.
day 9: i hope your
vocal cords strain, that
the only word you can
bear to say is 'stay'.
day 11: last breaths
muffled in the
graveyard of a kiss.
day 17: darling, i'm
losing track of time
day 28: i'm finding it
a little bit hard to quit.

One morning after interrogations
and permitted rest, a training day warning:
Objects look bigger than they appear.

Gunshot was fired again.
Along with flair and sentiments in fancy frames.

She was told to stand-up again
and He was told to run for his life as far as he can.
He was shot dead after a few feet.
She was let go only to allow trackers
to find the others.

Facing seducing blades and machines
in lines of neon relief, we bury in a hurry
forsaken selves.

She shakes cold under someone's embrace,
wonders about how staying together
may also be just another lie.

Sharpening blades tonight,
Oberon and the Moon covers a skeleton.

By sunrise, the towers are unmanned,
chasing and hide-and-seeks.
A survival meeting that never existed.
A radio singing while someone works and eats.

The place where the atmosphere consists of main outbreaks,
Whether the dishes weren't done or the floors weren't mopped correctly,
Something so small can effect the gross unification of "family".
Feeling like you can't necessarily express yourself,
Leaves you to feel drowned out by the many emotions that flood your mind at the worst of times,
It allows your feelings to grow more and more profoundly erratic; anxious.
Allow me to go into full elaboration as to how I constantly maintain my well-respected position of a so called "good person" or complain about the many people who are just as careless as the majority of people nowadays who simply do not ask how I've been.
I've let days slip by,
Suddenly, I feel no difference in what occurred yesterday or really, no contrast in the feelings I'll most likely encounter tomorrow.
At home, mass mental destructions happens,
It's where I get pulled into a place where I'm just trapped in my own self, similar to the way I feel in school.
I don't know, it could possibly be causing my continuous feelings of nervousness whenever I'm surrounded by people,
Or it could merely be the fact of which, I haven't yet chosen a path or seen quite a way to go through and feel a protective environment around me.
These winter days are gradually approaching,
It's only a matter of time until my mind goes away like the sun at night,
These seconds, minutes, hours can patrol for what feels like perennial timings, but anticipation is what's really foreshadowing my shallow whole of a "home".

The last to leave
the ghetto standing,
the flames
came in waves.  

Wildfires,
light up
the night skies,
horizons
Are those fire flies?
the sounds of sirens?
charred ash
black,
or
the sound of silence?

The phoenix
&
rubble
conundrum.

The standard prose,
bloodstained clothes,
and holes,
where things used to go.

Those pieces don’t fit anymore,
a malleable man,
that couldn’t stand the heat.
a flash in the pan.

We’re slightly charred by the situation,
tarnished,
yet not quite burn’t.

The smoke
smells fresh
in the
green grass.

As the time,
passed.

They made the most of those fertile soils.
They spoiled the landscapes,
with mistakes made
for the price
of oil.

Just set me on fire and let me burn
with the earth.

The level of betrayal
Hit me on multiple levels
Beyond the shadows,
Was it the Devils kiss
Those moonlit craters,
in the gallows,
That created those layers
In the mountains of the Himalayas,
Will they ever tell us,
The secrets lost within those meadows
Flourishing down at base camp.
Flying those false flags in eminence,
whilst were sentenced in the highlands.

Hidden haters,
Camouflaged in winter colours,
the mesa range
a inhabited massif,
A hint of frostbite,
That in hindsight could cost lives,
of those trapped beneath the icy nights.

The snowfall is just drop of ice,
Stinging the eyes of those blinded
by the shards of glass icicles in the avalanche.
A ridge away from the mountain range safety nets.
Disrespected tor of mother natures indignation.
Only the indigenous survive.

Yet in the flames of exasperation,
In the footsteps of evanesce,
A liquesce renders the snow storm useless,
as the sun melts the inundation of the snow slide.

An aubade ray takes over the landscape,
oxidating snowflakes one by one like a machine guns wake.

The temperate rise coincides with the rise of hope within the atmosphere.
The patterns clear and the same mistakes will be made over and over again
until the atmosphere is damaged so severe;

The sun itself will cry a tear.