Oct 2011
I was that boy bobbed in blonde hair
smiling for the world.
Catholic tie and attire draped on my corpse.
I once felt the beat of the sun
as I trotted to church in navy dress socks.
The twilit sun roused my tiny frame,
smile dressed prim when day meant infinity.
I was a new born.
Isolation befriended me.
I used to crave for the corners of a stable room.
When I made friends
I forgot them at the school parking lot.
I played by myself when the other children turned to ghosts.
My blonde hair gleamed in the reflected glistening of the sun,
dripping to the floor like washable paint.
I forgot friends and I adapted to a new school.
I don’t make friends,
I fool ghosts to keep me from playing by myself.
The moon was bigger when I was four foot tall
and everyday was forever.
There used to be memories in those middle school class rooms,
there used to be living children.
I laughed because my hair had long since dulled in luster
and the universe finally noticed me in that corner.
The furniture migrated to newer houses,
but I haunted each one like it was my own.
My bones reached for the skies.
I painted masks under my skin.
And the universe bowed over me in that corner
where the shadows are too shy to answer
and gave me a special game to play.
I developed a sense of self under that cloud lit canopy.
Everyday swallowed into eternal.
I left friends at the door so I could walk to them.
The night licked the eve, and the universe gave me sickly.
High school wasn’t a fantasy,
I figured it out in my sleep.
The house looks best on new soil,
and the room’s never felt so expansive.
I trot along the tile,
universe at my every step,
it’s eyes already know mine.
I built a machine
or a demon to feign myself.
I had a smile that carried a soul in its arms.
I’ve never disowned that corner
where the world came to me.
I meet ghosts everyday,
the very few I invite home.
I’ve made love to philosophy and science before I counted the stars.
The universe ponders my shoulder
and gives me a glory to behold,
and a pencil to carry.
I used to be a boy of blonde hair and innocent grin
and day used to mean infinity.
I used to be the fragments of me.
Now I’m the boy that was me.
smiling for the world.
Catholic tie and attire draped on my corpse.
I once felt the beat of the sun
as I trotted to church in navy dress socks.
The twilit sun roused my tiny frame,
smile dressed prim when day meant infinity.
I was a new born.
Isolation befriended me.
I used to crave for the corners of a stable room.
When I made friends
I forgot them at the school parking lot.
I played by myself when the other children turned to ghosts.
My blonde hair gleamed in the reflected glistening of the sun,
dripping to the floor like washable paint.
I forgot friends and I adapted to a new school.
I don’t make friends,
I fool ghosts to keep me from playing by myself.
The moon was bigger when I was four foot tall
and everyday was forever.
There used to be memories in those middle school class rooms,
there used to be living children.
I laughed because my hair had long since dulled in luster
and the universe finally noticed me in that corner.
The furniture migrated to newer houses,
but I haunted each one like it was my own.
My bones reached for the skies.
I painted masks under my skin.
And the universe bowed over me in that corner
where the shadows are too shy to answer
and gave me a special game to play.
I developed a sense of self under that cloud lit canopy.
Everyday swallowed into eternal.
I left friends at the door so I could walk to them.
The night licked the eve, and the universe gave me sickly.
High school wasn’t a fantasy,
I figured it out in my sleep.
The house looks best on new soil,
and the room’s never felt so expansive.
I trot along the tile,
universe at my every step,
it’s eyes already know mine.
I built a machine
or a demon to feign myself.
I had a smile that carried a soul in its arms.
I’ve never disowned that corner
where the world came to me.
I meet ghosts everyday,
the very few I invite home.
I’ve made love to philosophy and science before I counted the stars.
The universe ponders my shoulder
and gives me a glory to behold,
and a pencil to carry.
I used to be a boy of blonde hair and innocent grin
and day used to mean infinity.
I used to be the fragments of me.
Now I’m the boy that was me.
