3am and sometimes
i think the ceilings are split
from the weight of your
words, cold. last november.
but my lips
are cracked from the taste of
your
apologies, like wet ashes
on my tongue. tomorrow's cigarettes.
i pray to god
sometimes. i ask for one
more chance to remember how your smile looks like
on rainy yesterdays. brief thunderstorms.
i miss you.
your hands are sand
and i spend the entire time
trying to hold onto them but they slip
out, from the gaps between my fingers.
i feel as if i am chasing smoke.
i feel as if i am chasing you.
i am chasing you.
but i don't know where you've
gone, and not a single
navigating system in this world
could tell me where you are.
i break one.
i try to find another, but
the store says they're sold out.
outside, i find a pile of broken
ones by the trash can and lonely
silhouettes walking down the left side
of the crossroad.
because they know if they have to find someone,
they musn't go the right way.
3am and sometimes
i find myself brewing coffee
in the kitchen,
and i forget how many teaspoons of sugar
you'd always add to your cup.
so i don't touch the spoon.
3am and sometimes
i wish you taught
me how to forget you before
you left.
i brushed shoulders with you
the other day,
when the lights were green
and we were both crossing the road.
i don't
think you recognize me
anymore.

Out of concern I write.
Don't judge if am wrong or right.
Fundamentally, it is my right,
To address an I'll that is becoming a rite.

Many  swell like foam,
Being pumped to boom
By needle or rather *****
But in reality that are just but fume.

Peer pressure is  powerful  witch.
But can only enchant you if you wish.
We are empowered to be the wizards of our life,
To make freewill choices devoid of strife.

Aunty, getting slim tea is now slim.
Brother, guys are sleeping in the gym.
Boss, your colleagues are booking for liposuction.
I still wonder why you guys are rushing liposyn injection.

Ladies with Bees made of silicon
Counting themselves among the slaying lexicon,
In negligence of the pains to reckon,
They do whatever it takes to be a beauty icon.

Smokers are liable to die young.
You ignores it as if it's written in ching-chong
Liposyn users are liable to kidney failure,
You ignore to prove your velour.

You are made from the best kit.
Don't risk it all for a ****.
Stop thinking anticlockwise.
A word is enough for the wise.

Blessedinkz

There lived a witch in olden times
Of the quizzical variety
A firm grasp of the arcane arts
Though sadly not sobriety
She hatched a certain theory
Causing general consternation
But she turned away from doubters
And towards her new salvation

Go deosil, never widdershins
Avoid a deadly plight
For turning left is sinister
And that just isn't right
Rotating anticlockwise
Is officially redundant
Keep turning right for victory
Examples are abundant

My cousin said she knew a man
His name is immaterial
He turned left one too many times
Whilst searching for the cereal
Reality was torn apart
And through the gap he fell
He landed in a tangled heap
Outside the gates of hell

Go deosil, never widdershins
As daytime follows night
For hard to port is oh so gauche
But starboard's always right
Moving counter to the clock
Will ever be unwise
So keep on going rightwards
And away from your demise

Wendy failed to plan her route
With careful dedication
To turn only the rightest way
And reach her destination
Her lack of forward thinking
Led to tragic complication
She came upon a roundabout
And died of dehydration

Go deosil, never widdershins
Stay right and on the level
For only flaccid penises
Hang limp towards the devil
And those who turn to face the dark
The gods will surely smite
So if you think of turning left
Instead, go three times right

One enters the box of spiked gate
To make clockwise oval circles
Of familiar world views, at times,
With strange incursions of thoughts
Asking why a certain black cat
Beside the rock and the sprinkler
Exists in today’s accomplished view.
It is not the cat alone by the rock.
Try changing it to anticlockwise
To see strangely preoccupied faces
That seemed to be thinking much
In their burping stomachs and acid.
Squeals of old laughter then greet
Morning views of mist and rabbits-
Disappeared rabbits that had merely
Jumped out of the box and gone.
There was no grass left in the box.
We are making circular motions
Dutifully in our own square boxes.
We look up to see standing people
In balconies of red-and-blue houses
Bursting with morning men and lungis.
They should be back in their box soon.

With a colourless ink
Yet every letter reflects diamonds to her glassy eyes

Starring at the horizon of her poisonous skin
Brown like a coffee with no sugar
A spot lightless
She yearns to be accepted
Yes!
Acceptance...
Even if it intends
Breaking her ribs into stew with a blissful aroma
She gathers all her pain into a bouquet of roses
So she trades it like its none of the above provisions

She stares into her valueless femenity
No!
Her guts can't lead her astray
She knows they are hardly benevolent with her
She thought a thoughtless to be thoughtful
She peels the burden of emotions off her skin
Piles it in the shelf of carelessness
Shoving her freedom underneath the mattress of nothingness
A shooting star
Like a bleeding scar
Her entire life had been

Wearing her worn crown
Her dusty gown
Like a clown
Smashing mud on her face
Her tears like a lace
With an intensive rage
She's determined to win this race

She yearns to be accepted
Acceptance
Right or wrong
To her its just black and white
Like clockwise and anticlockwise
It brings no difference
She's determined to win this race
She gets herself in double trouble
One more neglected
One less erected

She yearns to be accepted
She's ready
To be declared a "women"
A title like a queen
She gives herself a tight squeeze
Comforting her thoughts
Speeding with an athletic speed
In a gravel road
En routing to her dusty dreams
She determined to win this race

the light is raging, colours are hiding
when we hide our hearts full of dusk
we are mercenaries of ensoulment
listening to this manic-depressive couple,
power and helplessness, makes one wanna scream:
darkness is vulnerable too
clockwise the mind in action flows looking for its anti-time,
our actions can stand as tall us
anticlockwise is a flow into the trance of the unknown
into foreign bodies full of the tension of keeping the light
apart from day

Magritte is dreaming his hat, Freud his pipe
The Empire of Light perhaps
Ceci est une pipe, a vital voyeurism, the pleasure of stirring up
so many levels to listen for their hidden symbols
we are antiparticles for each other, when we collide reality starts screaming for each soul to witness
but a homeless pain possesses our dreams
unable to recognize the ******* of caring

too tired for rage, I am only wondering
where to find the necessary love for this fiery world
I ask the trees, the birds, the mind of the wind,
I'll pray for them to teach me their grace

The border between Ireland
and Ireland is a skipping rope
held by counties Donegal and
Down, but the problems is this,
Donegal are turning it clockwise,
whereas Down are anticlockwise.

Meaning: meaningless?

If no,
Then isn’t it a
Meaning by itself

If yes;
Multitudes of Meaning
In multitude of minds:
Chaos of multiplicity

Aha, what a profundity, for
Even if it is not,
Then it’s a
Profundity by itself

Running clockwise
Running anticlockwise
On a circle perpetually

Ongoing vertigo;
A side-effect of
Owning a mind

and there we were
the most precious place
crystalline blue waves
just so uplifting that you

quite closed out
all clothes off
dove in 

a low move
a mean road
to me

incompatible egos
sedulously obtained
at least you perfectly
go figure

about time
love means you
as a stranger

so I ended up
saying wait and see
to myself not you

Intuition going anticlockwise
quiet into warped existence
until well turned blue
to me

I wore sneakers today
For a wander down memory lane
Called an old friend to talk
And took time for a walk
Same as I've always been
Dressed for winter over my skin
Hoping rather to laugh
At the things from our past
Things I've come to miss
To cut conversationlessness
We danced anticlockwise
In lines in our minds eyes

When the world caves in
the mist rises and clouds evaporate
and the clarity of the day hides
in the smoky ever rising dew

At times this body revolves
anticlockwise on the centre piece
like a rollercoaster awaiting to explode
on and on until the nights kicks

The rhythm in my soul awash
tainting my body with specks
traps of dissolution and anger
until the day my heart arises