rainbow pills and broken filters
tips and pockets filled with wine
breath so bitter, lips so broken
digging nails and brittle smiles
first light viewing with ticking wrists
5 am to smoking hills
bedded greens surround our feet
fading in with the best company

(n.j.)

her eyes would go
to all sorts of faraways
body, mind and soul disconnected
yet merged into the perfect embodiment
breathing in a world filled with plastic and insincerity
behold are her hands that work wonders and as her words of pure,
she is the clearest vast of ocean and slate you will ever come across to witness

a flower amongst a field of defiled individuals
she is, if not, the closest to perfect

(n.j.)

it's the little things that we appreciate, like how the body forms into a shell ready to take you in,
welcoming you into their mind of oceans and currents as they willingly embrace you
we attempt to picture every moment we have with them, wondering if we'll ever fit the frame
conversations are merely recordings that fade into background, the true connections made through sincerity, subtle glances and intense regard
the flesh and skin that they wear appear as exhibits that we alone can touch
their presence a reward, their words a treasure for the heart
we notice the fine lines, their dainty wrists, and veiny hands
we notice their crooked smiles and how the corners hang like a wanderer stapled to the moon
we romanticize too much of everything that is easily dismissed by everyday eyes
although almost invisible, they mean every beat of the heart
to every fiber of the soul, to ever breath we breathe in
so when the smiles disappear like forgotten dust, we cannot help but fall apart
we disintegrate into tossed cigarette butts that once resided on lips we love
we cannot forget the way they laced their fingers together, or how they made their coffee
how their ears are shaped, how they gazed into space when we watched them wondering what they were thinking
how they carried their feet when we dragged them, conversing in drunken breaths
because nothing is as simple as that, a disappearance like a thief in the night who took our lives with them
nothing will resemble or replace even a strand of hair
because it's the little things that tear us apart as well

n.j.

as human beings and consumers, we often seek for contentment
as seekers, we search for satisfaction to fill in missing parts of us we think we need
as lovers, we seek for attention, longingness and to be far off from the void
we search for what is relevant enough to be the food of our soul, and as we consume we are never satisfied
so we seek for satisfaction, wanting more
and with hands full, a heart pouring out of selflessness, we destroy ourselves
as we fall in love, we fall apart
giving and offering missing puzzle pieces that exist within us
as we gradually become into nothing, we feed off of others, consuming whatever it is they have left
we accept their love, and they, our flaws
aware that we are only body parts that are reconnecting
as we heal, we occupy their vacancies, filling in missing parts that have been hollow for too long
we become their musings, their vertebrae of support
they become our sanctuary and our hope
they become the memories that look into the future
instead of the mistakes that shaped who we are

n.j.

the walls leaned in closer every time she spoke
as fleeting as her voice, time shook before her
her hands were the minutes and the hours
her smile was a reminder, her eyes were a lover's
yet she belonged to no one but herself
each breath took was a second lost
each word drifted and passed around
each picture taken was a memory
she was slowly slipping towards death
and although she knew,
there was always something beautiful about it

n.j.

your words spill like hot coffee across the table
with every syllable and touch of the tongue against your palate
i am still not used to how clouded your mind is
you often forget that i exist as a person with emotion,
a person with scars that can gradually reopen
i realized throughout the days that you barely know the little things,
like my favorite color, the reason behind my smiles and the passion
that i've grown used to hiding
you forget to question the reason behind my tears,
you forget to hold me when i'm surrounded by all these fears,
but i guess i've gotten used to knowing
that your words can't always fix what's broken inside

you say that i know nothing
but with every sweep of your broom,
with every wipe of your cloth
against the corners that have slowly started to collect dust
you bury me under what used to be a colossal of a heart
i try to suffice this cup with a love-filled gesture,
a written letter, an explanation to why i am an apparent disappointment
but nothing will ever be enough

you say that i know nothing
but to rely on the people around me
you say that i can't cook to please,
that i can't fix things and that i'm clueless on how to live this life
that has been given to me
that my hands are too weak to hold the stirring wheel
that my skin is too soft and easily grazed
that i can't satisfy a husband if needed be

so i'm sorry and that i know nothing
but to observe life from a far away distance
that i've been too busy trying to fix my mistakes
instead of cleaning the messes i leave behind
i'm sorry for being a lousy driver
for as my weak hands have to offer
only comfort and guidance to the people i love the most
i'm sorry for clinging to my own perspective of wisdom
instead of working towards the outcome,
for leaving the dishes as they towered one on top of the other
i'm sorry for being human, and for being a daughter
that has not passed your expections
for being the one that knows nothing more
but to cherish the hands meant for reaching places instead of bed sheets
meant for adventure, instead of suffering

i'm sorry for living

10:34PM*

i'm torn between filling an entire page with my stream of thoughts and collapsing into bed, hoping i'll never wake up again in the morning. it's terrifying to think that something so dreadful could easily cloud up a mind that's trying so hard to escape from death. but i can't help feel anything but discontent and the constant disarray of patterns and paths i wish to fix.

but what can i do when i can't even fix myself?

n.j.

time is painful to deal with. sometimes i wish it never existed. we cannot grasp or stop it from going back or forward, we're only left with how it is and what will be.

eventually it is the only thing left to accompany us alongside accepting the deaths of loved ones and those of the unbeknownst. our lives befall victim to numbered days, hours, seconds and we cannot control the outcome. my only wish is to not see you suffering into shivering hands too fragile they might crumble. to be able to fulfill dreams without the cost of the lives of another.

i wish i could be able to hold you until your final hour but who knows, there could be something more distant than distance that will never bring us as close as we are now together. nothing can compare to the present affection we offer to families, lovers and friends. most of all, nothing is more beautiful than the never-ending dedication and loyalty that we will carry on as treasures buried deep in our hearts.

we will continue to love past coffins and tombstones, sickness or health, touch or longing to get rid of the ache that we feel.

and we will always wonder why there's never enough time to love the ones we want to, the ones we need to.

n.j.

i wish i could have met you in a past life, somewhere deep into the future or a different environment. a foreseeable destiny of
disassembled events, waiting to be rearranged into a different order. maybe you and i could have perfectly fit in, as i've always imagined us to be

but unfortunately imaginations seem to fall under fairy tales and tragedies, because sometimes *what we want won't always be

we all rely on the gravity that pulls us back into the earth when our heads are caught up in the clouds. the world is one gigantic living and breathing organism that latches on to the beliefs we so speak. but what separates me from you are the barriers that position us in places where we're out of reach. and all i desire for is to be able to meet you, see you and acknowledge the fact that you are real.

i move from place to place until i lose count of all the people i encounter and i feel as if we may have crossed paths on the streets or the grocery store or daily hour. i'd be lying if i say that i never get tired of searching for you every day but i believe the world moves in mysterious ways so that one day those walls will crumble and disappear and everything else will fall into place, and just maybe you might be real.

i drag my feet across concrete and daily routines often forgetting that the world is indeed too unfathomable to explain. you could have been that person gazing out the window of hotel rooms or vehicles. you could have been the person in front of the line, counting your change before making your way. you could have seen the scars on my arms or my vacant eyes and how you wished you could have approached me in some way that wasn't odd for you and i. maybe you could have said hi. but such acknowledgments are often dismissed with eye contacts and smiles, sometimes not even our senses could be leaned on. our true intentions disguised with glances, subtle hand brushes and complete negligence.

quickly enough, you are nothing but just a stranger walking past me unknowingly with only the thoughts of daily routines clouding up your mind. you may forget the order of things and misinterpret a stare as elusive, wishfully hoping it could have been an introduction to a greeting. i apologize for not initiating on to the next step and only admiring how lonely a human being could get, standing alongside me and many others yet our bodies seem to respond only to each other intensely but subtly to the eye.

we both know the holdback is agonizing and we wish for the day when we would be running our fingers through the rubble of the walls we tear down. for now, what we believe in will remain as thoughts. the world will always contradict with our stream of desires, dreams and feelings. you and i may not know of each others' existence but everything else on this earth is alive, living and breathing, and in time i will be able to look at you in the eyes and know for sure that you are all that is real.

n.j.

there was always this crack in her voice when she spoke, sometimes not too distinct but it was almost as if she was trying to block out the noise and the arms that try to reach
she stood like a wilting flower, head bowing at pavements and worn out tiles yet she possessed this beauty that signified the last dying hours of a queen
she was lovely but lacked being loved and although her hands were made to stretch out to pieces that could build her whole, she was always too lonely, too alone
her heart gravitated toward those who were broken and upon seeking she served as their comfort and they, as body parts, temporary but not permanent enough to keep her together
she was a puzzle piece that never fit, often dismantled and avoided but despite solitary, she ignited like a bleeding petal
an unperceivable watch on broken wrists, ticking the life out of human beings, a countdown forever on repeat
she would have never guessed how many hearts she could capture just by grasping them with her eyes, so departed and vacant from feet-up yet so alive
such a beautiful girl capable of suicide and saving lives of those who now continue to remain as survivors
yet any second, this wilting flower could give out and die
and sadly, her beauty wouldn't be enough to save her life

n.j.

don't look at me as if i'm some piece of side trash left alone to rot like a cigarette ****
stop discarding my worth and comparing me to those less like me
i am not expendable
but i am just like you, not an ashtray of growing remains and dust

n.j.

the most prominent thing i remember is the back of your head and how the last thing i always picture is the front door closing
my heart is left empty and so is my bed
i can't claim it to be ours, not anymore in this room of broken promises
i wish you could have left me your clothes hanging, then maybe you would have lingered longer than the wind or of how cigarettes smell
you may be wondering why i'm struggling for air, trust me i've been trying to quit but with every drag and stick your face shows up in between and if that's the only way to not forget then i'd rather choke on coughing fits
the day you carried out your bags, you took away what belonged to me as well
you were the whole package of dreams and soon to be's, you were my future but you cut the strings and i had no choice but to let you slip through my fingers
you stayed long but how you withdrew yourself from me was an act of retreat
you did not have to leave
so if you ever come back searching for me, know that all i have to offer is to forgive
we make mistakes as human beings, it's our nature's way of living but i will never blame you for wrong doings
i will love you for as long as these corners stand firm and still, afterall this was the house we lived in

i am glowing from within
i feel something inside of me sprouting and begging to be set free
it's telling me that it's alright to have messy hands for words and torn pages i can't yet seem to comprehend
my fingertips are soaked in specks of imaginary turned to reality
and i am grasping them with every will that i've got in order to create something extraordinary
i am living art; i do not need a canvas to lay out my work because i know that the roads will take me there
i am aware that during the early years that there will be people willing to pay to watch me fail
but i am a human being designed to create
and i don't want to waste my breath dwelling and holding onto things that i can't proudly say are mine
i may fail but i will not stay down only to be eaten alive
i will face death in order to overcome these voices that have been residing for far too long in my head
and they will never take me, i will never give in

n.j.

the moments pass by like fading eclipses and melting snow
i'll melt away into the dark and picture the fingers that caressed my skin,
you cradled my heart and watched me grow
thank you for being there as i witnessed the city lights behind foggy windows
for kissing my knees and elbows, for showing me how to pour milk into cereal
for every second you bury your fists into the dirt, you never complained,
no matter even if i never thanked you enough
i threw away the chances i got, so here's the best that i'm given
i dedicate this poem to you that's written in between listening to records at 2 am
the smudginess of how clear i want my gratitude to come across will remain turbid
and you can tell by the skies how much i miss the weekends by the bay,
the sand between my toes and shoes colliding with the gravel
i miss the summer and winters but this family is all i have to remember things by
thank you for being the angels that stood by my side. i appreciate the guidance that light during dark tunnels
for not forcing me to change despite my greasy hair and scraped knuckles
thank you for running with me and for catching my tears when they fall
you loved me unconditionally, the kind of love a daughter could ever ask for
you traced my smile with yours and connected my bones when i was lost
you picked me up when i tried collecting dust off of table corners,
you said it was okay to feed and love the cats that roamed the streets
and i will forever admire your courage and sincerity
although life is but a fleeting journey in which our hands were once that held onto overgrown grass and our mother's hair,
let us remember this moment when everything feels less of temporary
let us appreciate the people that held our hearts,
let us thank them with a kiss, a hug, words on paper, a work of art
let us continue to love them

so here it is, my thank you to you

n.j.

she looks at his eyes while he stares at her thighs
and he's wondering if she's going to sleep with him tonight
the dress that hangs by her dainty physique is meant to impress
but all he pictures is what's underneath
their hearts beat giving values to their chests
of treasured boxes kept locked away from all of the rest
she wishes for solace and an assurance to not be pressed
he wishes to gain her trust and to take over, hoping for a nightly event of passionate ***
he lures her into a loophole of false intent
she smiles at his slipping mask but continues to reciprocate
they exchange words over drunk breaths
but she is too intoxicated so she forgets
her tenuous wrists are taken into his
she tries to refuse but eventually gives in
to forceful attainment and prohibited entry
she wonders if her racing heart will be heard through her thin exterior
she wonders if there are other words for "help"
and why men always have to be the superior
her fingers are helpless along with tight shut eyes
clothing sliding from svelte body parts, past unconscious skin
she senses heavy breathing, not hers, to keep herself wondering
unaware and completely susceptible
she falls asleep, passing out with her body against his

the sun will kiss her tender cheeks
with the absence of coffee drinks
she will be awake and lying next to nothing but empty sheets
she will remember looking into his eyes
hoping that he was the one to keep her safe from reoccurring lies
but he was nothing but a crooked thief
who robbed her of her entirety

n.j.

Listening to songs that remind me of winter
Chilling guitars and ice cold skin
I taste bliss on chapped lips
Tiny hairs on my arms that go unnoticed stand on end
The heat is rising here, it feels like summer yet Christmas is fast approaching
I miss my childhood of hazy mornings, heavy eyelids appreciating windows pressed with mist
Layers of clothing that will never satisfy the warmth of my skin
I miss the innocence that I once held
Handprints on glass spaces facing city lights every day and night
Craving for warm bodies wrapped around thick blankets, awaiting the first sunrise of Christmas Eve
My family's love and warmth never beyond reach
I miss the way my stomach filled, as I exchanged smiles and gifts across the dinner table
And I despise the way such songs remind me of the way I felt during those winters

I miss the little girl who didn't care if her smile made her teeth look big

I miss the little girl with clean skin and intentions

I miss my family that always stood by each other

I miss the 10 years that slipped away from my fingers

I miss winter and how the little things remind me of excited footsteps echoing and filling up walls of a household of four individuals

The foggy windows, chilly mornings, familiar lights, laughter and smiles stored enough to keep our bodies warm for the days to come

I miss the songs sung by our stereos, pervading the air with joyous breaths as we exchange bright possibilities and futures

I miss the Christmas that I've always known

n.j.

I don't think this cycle is meant to be broken
I seem to be running in circles, frequently going back into old habits like it's bound to happen
I detest each passing day with a passion because I should be living a life worth telling and I should be dreaming dreams that I will make into a reality
But I keep cutting my words short, filling my lungs with smoke and body with scars too prominent to show
I have nothing to look forward to, my days feel numbered and I'm not responding well to the help I'm offered
I'm burying my voice along with the others, I'm not afraid of them anymore

I will let them devour me alive, watch them tower over me until I am nothing, until I am no more

n.j.

I don't know what makes me so insecure
I don't understand why I'm so drawn to obscurity
I ask too many questions behind a closed mouth
I am prone to failure and imperfection
My thoughts are orderly aligned and filled with doubt

I write but fail yet my goal is to silence the voices that won't stop speaking
I express in quietness but the messages I bear are too deafening to hear
I am that girl by the corner, fiddling her fingers
Covering her ears with music and pulling down the sleeves to mask unacceptable scars
I am the girl you won't notice when you walk through that door

I am too shy and lonely for such an early age
I keep myself up all night with conversations and words I wish I had said, yet
I am preoccupied with hours of sleep to forget the anxiety I built
I crave for death yet every ounce of my body is telling me to live
I am a mess I can't fix, I search for answers yet I am too blind to see solutions that are laid in front of me

n.j.

I have lost my words
Which I turn to for repose and release
They have disappeared and transformed
Into slurred speeches and mismatched colors
My fingers, they search for comfort
Lacing each other in confusion

I cannot find the words I am looking for
My thoughts have remained quiet for too long
What I thought was a spectrum I could rely on
Is as bland and dull as the skin I have worn

My eyes are a perception of lies
Only visualizing in black and white
My mouth a conception of verbal conundrum
Confusing and replacing words
Once so facilely found

I am born into a world
I'm not even sure I can call my own
I do not know where I am from
I cannot find the words I wish for anymore

n.j.



https://perennialink.wordpress.com/2015/11/06/unpoetic/

Drain me out

I am a flightless bird soaked in deep water
Hindered by the heaviness of my feathers
Constantly weighing down my flock
I am not my own burden
But a bag of rocks thrown into the ocean
A corpse to never be found
When meant to catch the eyes of the innocent
My body refuses to stay afloat
My mind is living under
And I have no choice but to hit rock bottom

So hear me out

Carry my withering bones and feathers
When my body decides to give out
I cannot keep living under water
I am not meant for this environment
My skin is meant to feed the clouds of freedom
Tracing linear passages and unsteady travels,
With my own people
We are meant to soar into oblivion
Of building dreams and vision
But my mind keeps living under
And I cannot escape what has harvested inside
I have no choice but to hit rock bottom

n.j.

The wind howls to the craters of the moon, wondering if its lack of breath is another respiratory disease waiting to happen
As bodies crash into the ocean and casualties increase by every bottled up sensibility
The cracks of cardboard doors fill up the voids of emptiness,
Emptiness of washed up filth and five days worth of street toxic meant for the guts too vacant to feel
Their doors quiver to every knock and exhale, families too hungry, awaiting to devour assurance of safety
Just this once, they are asking for a little more
Than numbered days of handfuls of rice and rock salt, enough to feed the mouths of eight
Teeth clicking to every bite, bones clashing together to prolong the food not more than a mouthful
However this time the clicking doesn’t stop
It intensifies as street light poles plummet into windows and shards are washed away, seeping through soaked doors
They are told to leave these places without titles but this unnamed land is their entitlement and home
Their mother whose tongue is a symphony of lullabies remains silent, hoping for the storm to pass
Lips swollen from biting, she looks at her children with fear in her eyes, tears reflecting the shattered bulb that hangs by the kitchen ceiling
She links her arms to her children’s, grips their skin tightly hoping to warm their shivering exterior while whispering the words “they’ll come for us”

Time elapses and the water rises, their properties enveloped by the disease
Their house disappears along with it, in a downward current of pitch black and rotten forestry
What is left is a family of seven, arms linked and accompanied by the howling wind,
Slowly diminishing with its lack of breath, becoming a nationwide debris

n.j.

Scatter the ashes that have become steady flesh
Before someone collects them to bury the remains in a false cemetery
Scatter them quickly into the flowing rivers and high up in the skies
I am parallel to their world; I am the closest to death

Ligaments and veins that was once compelling
Supreme yet a puppet to garrulous demons
An artistic treasure box of limited oxygen
Fell victim to powerless witnesses that chose to keep their silence

When our bodies collapse and our hearts expire
Revive my breath with visitations and flowers
Although I am now a river and a turbid sky
I am parallel to your world yet I am right here by your side

n.j.

coming home from a long day of school, i am welcomed by my mother's kisses yet it's the blade's that touch my cheek
i feel the long glides of hello's and how are you's creep up my veins and sleeves
my heart pounds like a hummingbird, except this time there's no bird but a desperate cry clawing at the door
my throat catches itself as i skip lunch with an empty stomach. my tears will be all that's left to ingest and the dining room will be my bathroom floor
i collapse on my knees drenched in uniform sweat, punching the tiles and marble décor
why is it, that every time i strip i reach for sharp edges instead of shower curtains?
why do my hands try to break the buildings of restraint? why are they strong enough to reach for the blades?
and why am i considered weak if i resort to such violence?

i cannot remember the last time my thighs looked bare
each time i recall, i see a naked canvas stained with red and purple
my individual hairs dipped in fresh cuts and my head spinning around in circles
each time i try to forget the lunch i skipped and the conversations of unspoken words i never said,
the skull behind my forehead trembles with regret
and i’ll remember how my heart would pound like the wings of a hummingbird
flying back and forth, clawing and tearing my chest open as i reach for the door

my mom awaits me with kisses to welcome me home
but i’ll be too eager to collapse on the bathroom floor

n.j.