She reminds me of Iceland.
Cold and beautiful
snow covered black seas
Mountain high in the air yelling to the sky.
Mystical crystal clear kaltes klares wasser.
The deep intrigue of its black nights.
Of its daylight of rose haze lights.
She reminds me of Iceland,
a far-away land meant not for me.
Many see her and marvel about her beauty.
She is the once-in-a-lifetime experience, she is the northern lights.
She is a star.
She reminds me of Iceland.
For you will find none like her at all.

have you ever tasted cherries on warm summer nights?
the cherries that sparkle when you bite,
that drip down your lips
melting with the slick of your tongue.
cherries,
high up the trees, unattainable, beautiful.
cherries
that for a moment relieve you of your deityless existence.
I ,too , have met someone
unattainable, beautiful, high up in the trees
a dancer
with subtle glances at her own posture
as she pursues her lip
and tips her feet forward
as she moves to the beat
of life
her breath tucked in
making sure that every muscle is
attentive
her nerves singing and
her gaze
oh the gaze of someone of lustrous
cherries
held tightly to yours never letting go
oh those twisted violets
like the deepest of blue
waters
unattainable far away
in a distant land the darks of
iceland
the rocks that perk up high mountains
that rise up to the skies and tell you
no
the stormy winter nights that hodl tightly on
and never let go and
her that sits barely glancing your way as you conjure up memories and
imaginations of her of stormy days
of the clouds that waver over your face
that do not let you go.
She is all that she is intense.
She is mystical
out of this world
not one to know not one to be whispered to, beauty she is.
aphrodites daughter.
Even if she is unknown to you
the world knows of her. For she screams
she screams and is grabbed the attention of
7 billion. she is
a haunting memory.
The touch of a spell that binds you into
horror filled
trenchuous nightmares.
And when He
holds her it crushes your very being
you cannot breathe cannot see cannot be
you are all hers
you are devoted
you have become the very essence of Her
You cannot seem to look away.
She exists ingrained into your eyes
as you close them
in your dreams enchanted
into your heart
she is the mystical of the world
the fairy tales told by generations
of generations,
my love.
whom i devote so strongly to
whos cherry picked stares
fumble up into a
no.
I am a meer mortal in her presence
not one able to make her smile
trying to get an ounce of her attention
of her anything,
her everything
Please be mine
please be mine
please be mine
          you chant
But you know He is there.
The **** the wilderness wolf, cheating abyss. He has done her wrong but
she does not see her as she dances the gentle way she moves
black swan
blue dozens
the galaxies
containing the answers we have seeked
she does not look at you
you are invisible
but
He does not see Her for who she is
a painting
a beauty
out of this world
she is not mine.

Purple lights would blend
into your skin.
Deeming us eternal.
Deeming us lovely.

Your eyes were shadowed
by the darkening of your hair
laying sweet like silk against your skin.
You were intense.

I would feel you bore into me,
explore me,
i would feel you open every locked case
The entry of my heart with a bloodied warning sign
would be ripped apart.

Your fingers on my waist.
Your fingers holding me tight.
Breathing into me.
Your nose caressing the nape of my neck,
down my back.
Lips kissing me all right.

Salt and sweet I tasted
As your tongue
made me quiver.

You were forbidden
You touched me all over
I was made for you
Moulded for you.
For your hands and tongue to explore.

And i would cry into the night, begging for more.

n.b

internet ****
and the way it inflicts
you with fingers grazed of violent liquid
of haunting maniac devilish eyes
with wrinkles seeped into their skin
and the prey who is barely eight
who has a future that may be bright
and your hidden manhood
and the tight rope which pulls me
in
and the way the eight year old seeks reassurance
and love.

Who is it
but my fault?
and the prey who seeks more
horrific imagery  
the bottoms of humanity
who seeks the horrors hidden deep
internet ****

I think Jealousy is a shameful feeling

A sacred pact made with
an unknown demon

A bitter resentment of a past
complication

A mirrored messiah judging
all your thinking

Tuberculosis fit in the modern human

mind

and body stained with a dark
religion

Jealousy is a monsters making

Yet, perhaps,
the most Human of feelings

n.b.

she is she who is she and she
she is one and the same

she is blue eyed, she is green
she is mountains and she is waterfalls

she is she and she is she
she is taken care of, she is freed

she is a stranger, she is all
she knows and she knows not

she and she and she and she
look straight through me

Lover dear
Why do your eyes look at me
And not despise what it is you see
Why do your gentle touches
******* alive
And create fire
So large
I cannot
Breathe
And why does your giggle
Echo throughout the chambers
Of my heart and brain
You
You who has become paintings
Tattooed onto my brain
Thoughts so rapid,
Words I cannot understand
Oh, how hopeless I am
Why, lover dear,
Are you not in my hands?

heartbreak hotel
sisters chapel
she slithers her hand into his
desperately clinging
spine goes breaking
adrenaline bursting
heartbeat shaking
her blue eyes unseemly, his

her smile aflutter
a place familiar
of saturated lies
ridden, desperate
and clinging
her fate masked not seeing
for she
lays on a graveyard
haunted, unhearing
hurting but not speaking
praying for a
lovers hotel

n.b.

feeling like i need to slit my wrists and just die
this loneliness is killing me
i just might
take the knife to my chest
rip my insides open and press
at my beating heart
yet im still depressed
thinking of her

and the sound of nothingness
is soothing
yet i need someone here with me

n.b

I. Death

The succumbing of the body. A multiverse of gratitude prospering to numbers and numbers of different equations set by the timeframe of some data. The child that freezes and realizes its fault and cries, sobs to its mother. The ticking time bomb of thoughts attacking every single brush of a fingertip and every blink of the eye. the picture of dorian gray hung upside down with satanic signs seeping into the paint. The cold breeze washing over the youngling flowers. The becoming.

II. Heaven

What is heaven but a tropical world filled with red lipstick printed butterflies. Sand seeping into places you used to despise. The ocean, the mother god, latching onto you creating you, its prey. What is paradise but the whispers of secrets that you should never have known. Of your friend who stole a boys' kiss. The very boy who made you blind and created an utmost infinity of bliss. But no, he didn't love her, he was the very messenger, the bird who flapped his wings and mimicked a boy in love.

You spread your legs. Because all you have learnt is that you are the paradise. You become the wonderland of Alice.


a sultry voice whispering into your ear, making your heart flutter to the beat of the words. the sensation of euphoria like ocean waves rushing through you.
heaven is the ache in your stomach when the night feels everlasting and you connect with another being. just being.
paradise is belonging. it is being one.
it is the feeling of a stranger's lips on yours, intoxicated. The sweaty palms of the other exploring places only few have encountered.
it is a distant memory. feeling reminiscent of a time that once was.
it is the first steps you take without a helping hand. A free bird.



n.b

you are like an addiction
that i cannot beat
an affliction
at the core
when i speak
and think
of you
like a need
winning every time
and i lie
to those around
me

and take another hit
of you

n.b.

when i was 14
i saw the dancing children
like stars in the night
bleakening
and how horrid
that memory was
sitting
repeating
in my head
and every time
i look to the universe
a spike of hate
poisons me

3 am
yelling to a child
whom taunts like the devil
you ruined me i scream
you ruined yourself it screams back
like a rag-doll
it pulls me
until I am ripped into pieces
unknowing of
who the child is

the child grapples onto me
nails dug deep
red marks blistering
it whispers,
you won’t let me go
as a deep laugh roars from within it
the child no longer a child
but a daemon
who took over what was once innocent.
a realization
hits me.

creation
a result of the destruction
of the mind,
a play of words.
what cannot be fixed with fingers and tools,
but with patience and everlasting love
acceptance,
forgiveness.

the demon lets go
creating a lightness,
soothing within

kicking and screaming
it hits at the back of my head
but I pay it no mind
hand in hand with the child it smiles
waving its goodbyes

n.b

There comes a time
Where you wake up
And see
Whats reality
And whats a dream
And you feel The Glass Wall
Beneath your fingertips
Completely surrounded
Divided,
Helpless,
Unguided.
Searching for a way out,
a crack in the wall.
But Darling,
The Glass Wall
Only lies within yourself

n.b

i will not dissolve into loneliness with its pull and tug
loneliness is merely a greed
of what is not
i am plenty

i will be guided by gentle stars
as resentment and doubt have been caused from chasing after what is not mine
i already am built with a galaxy
i am plenty

i will bask in pure love and for that
i have plenty

ive been two
ten - a billion people
and tonight i found out
i like guys

n.b.

Lips ablaze,
Eyes wide.
She was hers, only hers.
As if gentle strokes
By a perfectly constructed brush
had painted her very being.
Her lips were pouted,
Pink
And pretty.
Her skin a milky white
Without a trace of flaw.
Her eyes, like the night sky
Shined at her
With a mix of purity and curiosity.
Pant like breaths made their way out.
She could feel her love

In her mind,
She was painted in a tub
Filled with crystal clear water,
dead roses afloat.
The roses would encircle her body, complimenting
Every curve
Every edge
To then rest
in her dark hair.
She looks so beautiful resting
peacefully
As the fluttering of her eyelash
comes to a halt.

n.b.

My father bent his back, his finger pointed high at his hair
he preached to me in dismay
my child, do you not see?
With the grayness of my hair I bare knowledge that cannot compare. I can do as I so please, say as I so please as I have lived for almost a century

I could not believe my eyes for as his hair is gray mine is black, untouched, remaining of so called youth

Yet my brain lies under it, entrapped with my soul, with my being, and it has carried many over centuries, it has guided through the seven seas.
Its’ knowledge that it bares goes over that of gray hairs

My willingness to see to read and lay my eyes over all corners of the world, gives me an enlightenment not many have.

I may not know all but I carry wisdom brought by me through the pain you have entered to my world as a mere child, I have become my own guidance my own deity,

my flesh and blood are covered with gray hairs

I am my own mother, I am my own father

Yet you talk all night about how grand you are, how knowing you are, and for your age you only mean me well
how ignorant, childish it even shows you, ignoring what you have done.

I pity your superficiality, your unknowing knowingness,

You see a child, possibly the reflection of you.

i sleep with razor blades
tucked tightly under my pillow
i linger in smoke
stop
and smell
              flowers
i dig silver blades
in the heels of my feet
walk head    high
all womanly
i season my chicken
with crushed up - - -
          zolpidem
.                   .                   . z
z                  z                z
rub them in good
and nice
Made sure, all the flavors in.
i light my house on
?!!?!?!?!?!?!?! fire !     !     !  
maybe… some warmth will come in?
and let my head
rest in the air
- wait a second-
oh! what a mighty view!
    i might just be ?
        
n.b

When i was at the age of growth, a prosperous age, a deciding age. I sat head wrapped around a book of letters, of numbers, of impersonal unnecessary confusion.

When i was at the age of importance, an age close to ruptering the innocent, you took control.

For my head, from that day on, never belonged to me.

For my head, from that day became spots of darkness and pain.

When you wrapped yourself around my head and crushed it with your bare hands, you dug your nails so deep, taking what was good, the radiance, the innocence. You took control and spat your venomous words down my throat, from my head to my bones.
You laminated and carved in insecurities and hatred, you made it all seem like a movie.

You and her both.

The look of hatred that filled your eyes is carried by my heart, by my soul, by my very being to this day. When i was crying and oh so scared, i sat there and stared at the depth of black infiltrating my system, my view. Clinging onto the sound of your ******* voice, the hands you flung out, meeting with my pores. The very hands that were supposed to keep me safe.

Crying out, screaming out for mother, mother dearest only gave me a look. On that very day i lost control.

n.b

love?
this emptiness inside
is it love?
is it what
the dreams
and stars of hollywood
are all made up of?
is this the fluttery
glittery
dancing feeling of
love?
is it your broken hearted gaze
is it your back turned towards
my chest?
is it your finger tips
that lay
reserved in another’s hand
is this love?
is this my bright
white wedding?
is this where
i throw my bouquet
and gleam to the world?
is this the same love
that mother used to
sing for me to-sleep
in my bed at night?


is this the love
that i will lay
in a grave
tunnel deep
for?

my manacled mind shaped heart
lavishly decked in red blooded fortune cookies telling futures that cease to exist and lonely storytellings of women in love
and the bitter resentment of dawn
and the dances of the silvery stream whispers of the unknown dipped in roses ready to be worn

n.b

A Blasphemous insult
to road rages
gutted pigs
and pixie tricks lying
on the headboard
over my too-small bed.

i am malicious
in the way that i am so far
but so very
in
and out
of my head.

dangerous foreplay
numbing cigarette snubs of kitten licks
i pull and tug
at the cancerous death
of Life.

wicked ends of
nights begins
and your lips all over mine.
on repeat.
like a broken cassette until i lay
vomiting over
this projectile mess.

and i search for
words that could
would
describe this
. . .
lingo of broken down
younglings
who for god sings,
and screams,
and do not know.

God, they do not know.

they who have screamed,
for Adam and Eve
and lay wrapped in each others tongues.
noses bleeding,
never-ending
eyes perceiving
what we all have been needing
darkness.

its shrieking
shivering
cries of madness toppled onto
eyes
you have been searching for your whole
Life.

and the mind-numbing
drugs
that you inflict upon yourself
digging your fingers into your skin
searching for flesh
and possibly a soul within.

we are the knocked out
lie living
generation of drunks

losing ourselves
in what we call
love.


n.b.

that i exist in this space and time
in this human body
that is mine
that i get up to feed
get up to ***
brush its hair
and teeth

sometimes i forget that im a face
that im a body that takes up space

i forget

i am
and i am to perceive

hairs on my arm
hairs on my face
eyelashes
my body
and its face

dually mine
i get shocked at the face that stares me back
in the mirror

i am your remembrance
once you remember me

once more
i look away and i
forget that i breathe
forget that my feet
stand on the ground and walk
as though a normal human being

forget what it is like to be
with others and with me

only remembering the panic of existing
as to uphold others memories of     me

n.b

What is identity,
if not freedom to express such?
For we are ever fleeting,
ever growing.
We are our mothers, fathers,
our teachers, our friends
and our brothers.

For you who is grasping at an identity
I say,
        Live Free
For those who cannot.

inconsolable mind
i lay, solemnly devoted to you
your gaze, your stare
your lips
sweet cupid bows of
pink womanhood

head back, hands tugging at
strings of hair
screams of euphoria
an exotic dance
chantings of unknown languages
tears from your eyes,
your back,
the dips and the curves
the nooks of your body.
paintings of red,
of blue, of yellow and of green.
scars from dipped nails,
carvings of Michelangelo.
infinity in your stare,
bringing me to my knees, toes curled.
you say my name
once, twice, hundreds of times.
we are wedded  
in this queer night

Look at me
Look at me, I say
In the way that I look
at you.

Look at my hair
Look at the curves
of my lips
Look at the way
My eyes sparkle in the
Sunlight
Look at the way
my body, is sculpted
for your hand
You, who has not a clue
Will you not,
I Beg
Look at me?

n.b

as a young child
with a handful of dandelions in hand
and futures yet to be
i watch the flutters of the winds picking up
its seeds
with my little hands
i blow
and let the tiny dandelion seeds
scatter to the winds
with it the molecules of my breath
carries many of mes’
and sets itself on a journey,
to the ends of my lived earth.
it plants itself, gently
onto the heads and hands
of those that are destined with
what short, what long time it sees with me.
it stays there and plants itself like little trees
growing the seed that is the little me's' name,
smile and face.
and it creates imaginations, it creates dreams
it ponders upon the little me’s’ essence it ponders upon the little me’s’ dreams
with which little me carry, planted within,
with the names, smiles and faces of destined paths that are to begin,
and the trees planted in little me create stories, imaginations and dreams
with which some are tainted and some are at ease.
and like trees those little leaves of smiles, faces and names scatter and fall.
yet some carry on to strengthen at its core.

n.b

its not the same anymore
i know more now
more than that broken child
that i still am
but i guess in some ways
- not


n.b

As I lie here bleeding.
I think to myself
what could have been?
I think about the wonders of the world
the shining stars
the ice that breaks with a gentle blade at the ends of a shoe
A dance.
Oh, my darling
How I go mad sometimes
How I go mad when you’re not here to patch me right back up
I wonder about the days when we were together.
Half a person
As what am I with the most vital part of me dying.
Wine red.
How you hated wine.
Despised it
Would you hate me now, darling?
The way you’d look at me
Like I was the most important thing on the planet.
Don’t hate me now darling.

Autumn colored leaves
The soft humming
of the busy streets.
The blooming wind
in its cold daze
making its way throughout your hair

“Wow,”

My voice breaks
this scenic scene
forever grateful,
that you are here with me.

And though,
you turn your head
ever-so-slightly
your eyes pierce
my whole being.

And then you look back
down at the ground,
the trees,
anywhere but me
until the day seizes to be.

n.b.

To be free, to be free, to be free
What does it mean to be free?

To be filled with laughter and glee?

To hold your lovers hand and be at peace?

To love or to lust?

   To be free,
To be free
    To be free.

What is she to me?

can i stop giving
your words meaning
those that are
but a slip of the tongue
god
it ******* angers me
how much
i think of you

n.b.

Be as the concluded myth
that I exist
beating beneath your tongue
in the ****-all-in
intake of breath
that you take
before I decide ; I hate your guts
And let me ponder upon your words
Still my beating heart.
And let my mind know what it wants
know of its fractures
of its eternal return
to thoughtless words
and empty thoughts

let me Love you a little less
Hate you a little more
with the knowledge that My Mind
knows it all

n.b.

Your piercing ridden tongue
Dip-dyed into my fiery veins
And the way you tuck your
hands beneath my bones
My most sensitive of spots

I think you are so beautiful
I yell it to the skies
with you
Blending into the many infinities
in my head, a kaleidoscope
You - the main sight

My tongue, my fingers, my touch
We have all come to see you
You grab me tight
For a moment, I, too, become infinite

n.b

The marks of the dead were placed on the backs of their necks,
and swallowed whole by the universe they were.
The rain of acid tortured their skin, unbeknownst by others.
Only they were to feel,
were to endure the wrath of the unknown.
Standing knee deep in winter water as ice forms,
one could only hope for the purest of deaths.
And to be kept as one whole,
for one's beauty to be exquisitely divine even at ones death.
The world is, however, not one in their favor.
Not one to tidy up all the mistakes and lay a yellow brick road.
No, may there fates be tied together,
and may they free themselves of harm.