It's 4 a.m.

I have spent the night
Trying to write
A heartfelt phrase of clever verse

Each stanza is just worse and worse
I fail to create
Anything of worth

How can I describe
How I basically
Want to tear out my heart
To give to thee?

I want to pull out the gory strings
And write you a ****** love song.

How can I transcribe
The look in my eyes
As they blink when
You're away from me

They flutter open and close, as a sign of hope
That you might be there the next time.

I have tried comparing you to a summer's day
But a summer day does nothing for me-
I want to compare you to a tempest of force
That has swept me into a lovesick fantasy.

I have tried composing some poetry
That could attempt to configure
The colour of your eyes
But all I could come up with
Were ****** metaphors and signs
That simply would not
Do.

Their presence is not "you".
You are you,
and you are far away,

Doing something with someone else.

I write for therapeutic torture,
Woefully convinced that should I be able to craft something
Reminiscent of this attraction
It might be generated right back.

I would be rightfully wrong.

And yet I continue to write.

knowing names and faces
is not enough

is not enough to put on
a superficial screen of pleasantries

i can listen
and not listen
with a smiling sheen

while i think of deep personal problems
that i am not keen
to show anybody

but my real friends.

they say
to get someone into bed
is not a simple task

but the harder task
is to undress someone
one layer at a time
get deep within their skin
cutting off their protection
knowing them fully
so that you
have changed their lives

it's far easier to be ****
than it is
to be vulnerable.

i could take off your shirt
or know what makes your blood boil
i could enter into you
or have my voice haunt your thoughts
i could invade private places
or the spaces you desperately hide

i could make you laugh
or make you cry

your body is rather finite
i'd rather infiltrate your mind
so that our insides translate the same
despite coming from different origins

a kiss on the mouth
or a enrapturing of the heart
that beats harder for love
than it does lust

have fun in daze onto the dusk
or contemplate what will become of us

they say
it's fun to ****

i'd rather love
and try my luck.

It is a pity that these circumstances
that have brought us together
will be the very same ones that rip us apart.
This does not mean that I will stop loving you from afar.

I'm not asking for too much
I'm not asking for anything at all
And suddenly mediocrity is magical and sufficient.
It's efficient to let yourself be inspired by little things
That
In reality
Are rather,
"Just fine"
And we continue the day with our heads held towards the sky
Even if it's always nighttime inside

And I sigh
I sigh because nothing excites nor impresses
Nor angers nor frustrates nor makes me react

For I expect nothing
To shield myself off
In this world of barriers
I'm lost.

You got that look I like
where wrong looks right
And a sheen in eyes
that twinkles bright
To me it's might
To me, it's a fight
To what I might find
If I grab the light
The chance is slight
To fall from heights
I've fallen before
It hurts like *****
The world turns white
My chest breathes tight
I know,
I'm never gonna be the one you like

Everything feels automatic and fixated
I've found an algorithm to help me mindlessly move through time
I've found a way to **** time-
Because I don't know what to do with it
By the time I have, I won't have enough.

What it means to leave a home that you’ve made for yourself,
is like a reluctant separation from a lover…

You never do fall out of love,-
Just out of reach.

Destiny, like the forces of nature, has made it so no matter what is in place already, it demands prominence with each new occurrence,
And you are accommodating,
For you are a mere mortal who has fleeting feelings
That no one else can feel
But we feel it all similarly.

The way I have lived my life
Does not justify the way I feel

Yet I have these feelings anyways
They haunt my head there everyday
Leaving me with nothing much to say

Complaining is a messy game

Been raised to swallow hardships
Still, remembering my privilege
I am so well aware of it,-
I probably shouldn't feel so ****.

However much sorrow
Dampens my sight

I wait for tomorrow
With all of my night

Happiness to borrow,
For others, I fight

There can only be shadows
When there is light.

Sweet Morpheus greeted me
On the grand patch of risen grass.

I lie down for a nap
Feeling vitality seeping through the dew
Which kisses the blades
Every morning and night.

The cirrocumulus and their kind
Casually flocking in the sky
I see the shapes in their crevices-
Reminiscent of something playful.

I put my ear against the earth
Not really listening,
Flecks of soil graze my face
Like a massive comb
Grooming softly
With tickling sensation.

Suddenly,
A crackle heard from the distance.

A dynamite? A firework?
A flash of lightening aimed specific?
I do not know.

I do not know.

I throw my hands towards the clouds
Soliciting them to take me away,
Lift me up to join their somnambulism
Above the ground
Detached
Like sleep paralysis.

From up here,
Everything seems nice
Because it is not vivid
Nor intimate enough
For concrete judgement.
This makes it easy to romanticise.

Reality is surreal
Surreal is happening,
Set me down in my nest on a plane of human existence
I’ll sleep through the evening
Through the noon
And the screaming
I’ll imagine
It’s something I don’t have the power
To stop.

I’ll pretend
It’s the music
That powers the rain.

I’ll escape with the stratus
Dreaming
I was in a position
To make a difference.

let’s run to the vermouth tree
let’s run up the bark
chipping off skin
showing smooth pane

you and me
you and me
just
you and me
you and me

we’ll be kings in our altitude

we’ll drink the sap
to makes us drowsy
we’ll take a nap
on the branches grand
like muscular thighs of amicable giants
planted right here in the sand

let’s run up the vermouth tree
and laze around like vagabonds
whose only inspiration is
to live
to long
and to live long

just like this horizontal wooden palace
which shall persist when we are gone
which shall resist broken innocence
for her branches always reach towards the sky
never regretting
or failing to try

its sweet earthiness
shall remind us
of the goodness of nature
as we drift to dreams

its sweet richness
fortified
reminds us of things
powerful
and magical

you and me
you and me
we’ll be befuddled atop her palms
held in her grace as we hang
as voluntary adornments
clinging on for love

returning home when the night’s to come.

until the setting sun greets us here
atop the cusp
flowerful smoke
defusing what’s become of us
while the clouds turn sad
at dusk
a must,
the rust
is true
and magnificent
and you and I
stay drunk.

Baby feet
like sugarplum gumdrops
Covered in sweetness
Only the tongue can describe

Enveloped in intrinsic tenderness
It can’t help but commit-
Akin to the kind of touch a mother holds
Her precious children with

Plush plush plush
Fluffy poodles and the smile of the old lady who sells
Candied strawberries on the street
Drizzled around the eyes of a kind maiden
Laden with tumultuous softness
That always welcomes embrace

With honey trapped in dimples
Skin smooth and supple
I sneak a nibble,
Sly and delicious
Simply nutritious
To my soul,
As it seeks this aura everywhere.

This does not mean
Weakness.
This can withstand
A million and one falls.

The echoing ripples of circles
In the pond of teardrops
Reserved for the world
And everyone in it
Seems to scan for you in a hopeful distance
Permeating constantly…

I’m merely a timid girl
Who fears rigidity and barriers
Desperate for a haven
Of feathers
Of warm rotund flesh
To retreat my head in

No matter how hard
I rub it the wrong way
It will never catch flame

And anger skips straight to a pensive forgiveness
That will continue to love and be my friend
Forevermore

For we do not keep scores
And we treasure scars
Silly enough to pick at scabs playfully
Taking the new ruggedness
Regarding it still:
Soft.
Plentiful,
With the mark of experience.

I would have loved to be your lover
Had I had even the slightest chance
As you walk over, ever so coyly
I cannot help a second glance

I’d rather live a fantasy
Than debate of different circumstance
To you, in dreams, I’d go to smoothly,
Reaching your arms,
To dance and dance.

I’d find you in my hands
Your hands
Which create gestures
Of grand romance

But I find you
Rather
Making these movements,

Towards your real lover
Do you really prance.

And I stand alone
Cold palms, lip balm
Clenching for warmth
Fingers clasping tight

And I stand alone
Watching you two kiss
And walk away,-
My heart,
A wisp.

I was temporary companionship
Filling the gap of mere preference
And it did not make the slightest difference
When I looked to you
As heaven bliss.

Conglomerate softness
Plying blissfully the scars off my wounds
An addictive activity with bleak endings
Leaving a small dent on my skin soon

A memento of this visit
Comforting words and faces explain greatly
The niceness in which days daze away sadness,

So I savour this.

A kiss of kindness disguises itself in the random acts of allegiance
Only friendship commits
On the edges of wit,
And the brinks of sanity
I treat my own mind with such levity that fails to address the subject topic.

One day I’ll get past this
Like the seasons which pass by the skies like temporary trips
Staying long enough to make you feel sad when it’s gone
But hopeful that it’s not lasting
Bombastically feeling nostalgia for everything.

The world makes me happy
In the way that happiness only exists within this realm
The only one we know
And for every day that I grow I show the fruits of my labour
Flavouring the air with words that fall out my mouth like crisp apples
Perishable but delicious and nurturing,
Though this apple tree can’t really fend for itself
It has gardeners who defend its’ health,

And I am so grateful
For this help to grow,
Hopefully through these fruits
I can show you
as well.

Too much lost in translation
Transportation
Communication
This game requires no imagination

I find no elation
Of why it’s called Chinese Whispers
Since it’s English that we’re whispering
Since I can actually whisper in Chinese.

I suppose it dates back to the 17th century
When Europeans and the Chinese tried to meet
And tried to speak
And proceeded to fail
To no avail
They still could trade

So today we have this game to play
Unknowingly proving in many ways
Even to this day
We still cannot understand
What others try to say
Like whispering Chinese to English speakers.

You ask me if I have a
“New Years Resolution,”

Honey,
I gotta write myself
A new constitution.
Ima start a personal revolution
Cuz I made a conclusion:
I wasn’t being the best person I could’ve,
I wasn’t.

Didn’t take risks or chances that I could’ve,
I wouldn’t.

I didn’t see the good in front of me,
I couldn’t
But I wanted.

Ima treat myself better
Than how I treat my best friends
I’m start things and finish’em
Right till they end

Ima love a bit harder than ever before
Ima even call my mum a little bit more.

Ima tell everyone I adore that they deserve mountains instead of molehills,
Cause they’re all modest in nature and indulge wisely like mice
You deserve every grain in that small bowl of rice
Even if you don’t want to admit it
Even if you don’t realise

Ima sing
Ima craft a love song through the notes that I write
Through my scribbles and nibbles
Gonna treat my lovers right

My friends
my companions
my sisters and brothers
I’ll smother y’all with cheesy ****
Like the personal poet you never had

And I’m glad
That I have the nicest humans
Who I only met in happenstance
Who listen to my ramblings
And the dramatic ways of my circumstance

Maybe this year
I write something brilliant,
Jubilant,
Magnificent
But if I can manage to make someone smile
That would already be significant

If you asked me for my New Years Resolution,
I couldn’t really answer you,
The goals I have in mind
Are really far from “just a few.”

The feeling one gets
From swallowing food down the wrong pipe
That erupts in coughs of desperate breaths

That is how my love bursts for you

As if short gasps spastic
Longing for oxygen
Toxic
is the lack of the air you reside in

Eyelids filling with biological tears
Uncontrollable in designation
I must stop here and stand for a while
To regain my composure

A pause;
T'was a shock that made me lose all routine reason
Normally
I am quite skilled at delivering food gastronomically

It was the thought of thee looking directly at me
Made me choke and lunge for the particles
No one can see

A fit of admiration
I have no constraints
Nor restraints
Nor act tame
To disguise this repertoire,  

All I can do is stand far
And sit in recovery
Wondering thusly
If these bursts of desire
Will take my breath away
Once more.

A friendship lasts longer than impermanent lovers
Which is why the two often merge
I’d rather a soul mate in intimacy
Than one consisting of passions absurd.

I wanted more.
I expected less
Nevertheless
That's what I get.

That's what I get for diving into futures
That the present does not progress into.

It is an addiction that I confess
I find myself in quite a mess
I'll take it perhaps, as a test
To decide what next to do is best.

As much as I'd love to be in your caress
As much as I can't help but stare at your dress
I know I must expect much less
Which I fail to explicitly express

Tell me about your other lovers
Recount all the spectres of your romance
I am just one of many others
That you passed by in fleeting glance.

If you had just but given me a chance
If you'd not agreed to hold my hand
If we were living in the same land
If you had seen me in your plans

If I had seen what was to come,
I would have left.

I would have ran.

The raspberry stains on the floor
Make a small battle scene
The red marks mark the fight my heart did lose
When I knew you had been seeing him.

Please don't take me for granted
While I marvel in your mystique
Revel, I'm dazzled,
            I find you unique
Yet I'm certain
Quite certain
Though you are my peak
I am not the one you seek.

I am not the one you seek.

I wish that
Eyeliner
Existed for essence.

Maybe then,
Someone would notice
My presence
Better.

320 contacts,
All people I could call
Collecting numbers I can do
Know them by heart?
Not at all.

The homeless ask for change
Not only the spare pence pieces you have in your pocket,
But the change that can make them sheltered and warm.

The buskers ask for change
Not only compensation for their musical vibes
But the kind of coinage for a different kind of awareness
Atmospheric positive energy
And peace

The travelers ask for change
Aid their way through the world to gain a bit more perspective
So they may prove others wrong when making horrendous generalisations
Or to see everything with better lenses

The activists ask for change
Breaking through social etiquette
Politeness is overruled by injustice
They take the streets their own suggestions
Vocal with rage…

The man in the suit doesn’t want your change
He wants your notes
Hard earned money from your wallet to feed his own
Grown grotesquely fat with gluttony
He wants your sense of self worth blinded with what he envisions
Making incisions into your mind
Of how you should act
And why you should cry.
Forget what’s inside.
Become a player on the stage of the world and fail to remember that you’re just another teenage girl too impressionable to hide
Rather then see you thrive he wants profit
Leaving you high and dry
Thirsty for nothing you can actually buy.

I ask for change.
I ask for the power to transform within me
To give the change all these people are asking of me.
Maybe I’ve not got the money,
But I can empty myself with all I have
And see if it makes a difference…

Kiss the man in the suit goodbye.