sunflowers on mute
i only see you right now
i think you are cute.

In a second
In a second
In a second
In a second
I will leave you
But never because I want to
Only because there is a world outside
A world where delusions like you
Might crash and collide
With me
Somewhat surprisingly
The real life version
Of an alias without a secret identity

Oh, but my sweet delusion
The ships get lost in your eyes
In your stormy seas
And albeit somewhat hesitantly
I won't let myself be lost

When the world comes crashing in,
Washing over you like the tide;
When you have nothing left to win,
And want to give up on your fight.

When you can't see a spark of light,
After days of pouring rain;
When you keep on saying you're alright,
While your heart is forced to bane.

When you have no one to hold onto tight,
Because life has left on you its mark;
When you can't look on the bright side,
I will sit with you in the dark.

I open a
box of insecurities and
add one
more.
The sound of my voice.
The boys in their Vans
have them fully-formed by now,
chests heaving, with splotches of hair
and the usual marks of transition.
I don’t, I can’t have those
things. I meet the requirements:
I am a boy, I’ve tried it all.

But in my bed at night, sometimes,
the ocean hums its wavelength
of monsters screaming, howling
for a rise up, to see more light.
a cloud formation gargles and spits out thunders.
A shiver reaction. Muffled. Loud. The strike
cracks the lips of our skies,
and it confesses some secrets about
its own insecurities; that there is no more
wonder in silence, that there is constant
stimulation and reduced pondering,
that there is a need to get rid
of the bad feeling.

It says,
when the thunder strikes, listen
up and listen long and hard,
because there is plenty of
chaos from your own making, but I offer
you unannounced, unpredictable,
disjointed disruptions of comfort, and it is
I who make you scared of uncertainty. It is I
who make you jealous about my loud voice,
my formed voice, my raspy, powerful voice,
not the boys in their Vans.

scrunch your eyes tight enough
and the scene will play
the way you wrote it

give me smoke
and your labyrinth fingerprints
on the throat of a bottle

brand me with lipstick stains
my own shimmering pools of ruby
straight from the angel's mouth

hop-skip of our words
like stained-glass window
dragonfly wings

swelling with colour
but careful! they'll break
if you squeeze them too hard

let's pretend the morning
sleeps on the horizon
a charcoal galaxy of days away

we'll go walking together
in the summer dark
and forget what we're supposed to do
with our hearts

I was an empty house before you found me;
You have planted wildflowers in the garden of my soul.
Now I walk beyond every horizon and paint the morning sky with our story.