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Dec 2020 · 163
The Assassin
boredom was the only monster underneath the bed at home
it creeps up so fast if you're not careful
it'll set so thick in the air
a knife can cut through it but it will not get rid of it

the **** was something she knew all along

it's the fabric in the boxes that give it an upper cut
the paint on a percaline figure that blinds its site
the recipes in a box that cut away at it slowly
the tomatoes to pick, to eventually throw at it
the colored pencils; the shank of creativity

the boredom will crawl away and bother another family
it preys on other houses
of the mom's that don't know how to get rid of it
and only flinch when they look the assassin in the eyes
couldn't afford Christmas gifts this year so I wrote poems for my family. this one is for my mom. Thought it was too violent but went with it, she thought it was funny.
Dec 2020 · 336
The Illumination
somebody told him there was a silent drug dealer
who would get you hooked on the stars
that you didn't need a business suit to learn about the city lights
the ticket to the world may have been on a boat
or just a tab on your tongue

The trend setter before the trend
the punk before the tattoos
the one to say "The Ramones never made it big"
but they will always be blasting in his ears

he lived in the prime, 1980's Japan
with all neon lights that could melt your face
exploring is the temptation of Tokyo
agoraphobia being the only sin of the city

the man. the myth. the legend.
the sunglasses being the only thing catching shade
as he is the illumination

a light on a Harley that blinds the night time
and with more stories than confetti in the New York City sewers
there's no such thing of getting old
when you're only good at being young
couldn't afford Christmas gifts this year, so I wrote poems for my family instead. this one was for my dad. I think he almost teared up when he read it.
Dec 2020 · 265
The Biophilic Temptation
I could live off the evergreen on a weak bet
or a whisper in a library that wasn't for me
I'll take off in the dead of night if it needed to be
without shoes or a backpack if it was necessary

the euphoria of the soil beneath my feet
and the sun feeding me all that I need
a place where the fog will never clear
but is never the symbol of gloom

the trees speak to me in code during the day
and let me know if they do make a sound when they fall
if I stay still long enough I too will be the woodlands
and the woodlands will be me

let the mushrooms grow off my back
and the spiders web between my fingers
petrichor the only fragrance I know
as I spit blossoms on the ground

I'll sit in silence and think of it all
for one thing is certain though:
the biophilia will eat you alive
but the exception is just so
couldn't afford Christmas presents this year, so I wrote poems for my family. this is for my sister's boyfriend.
Dec 2020 · 122
The Golden Ratio
the stars have aligned within my bedroom ceiling
as every potential life of mine passes before dinner time
the luck I have to be so passionate of the paint on my canvas
and the way I flip my eggs in the morning
how to understand Fibonacci's sequence in the way of the art
but also in the way of where I place my keys

do you know what it is to feel so deeply?
about the light that strikes my porcelain heart so perfectly
but also the way my plant leaves shine in the window's glow

do you know what it feels like to have it all?
every single artisans gave me it all in one touch
I'm a wicked traveler of space and time
I would live a million lives if I could
it may be a blessing, but it may be a curse
because choosing one would be the saddest of it all
couldn't afford christmas gifts, so i wrote poems for my family. this one was for my sister. potential rough draft.
Dec 2020 · 139
Turn River Ace
some say this building had issues with the temperature anyway
but most would agree
this heat was not brought on by the typical Houston air
he walks in to the beat of the trickling chips around him
heads turn for the new, the old already know how it goes down

some get up before he sits
only to make sure their pocket linings stay
the sweat on their forehead tells it all
who has the nerve to face the boy?

an hour in of back and forth
eyes only on him as he moves
their mouths ajar, he bets all in without a flinch
the atmosphere is flipped within a card
an uproar of "shocked but not surprised" flows through the room

as he leaves with money in one hand, and all the cheers in the other
the room falls silent faster than the door can close
just with one phrase that slips through the crack
"the boy is in rare form tonight"
was broke this year so I wrote poems for my family. this is for my brother. it was probably the hardest to write cause idk **** about poker. may go back and edit, so this is kind of a draft.
Aug 2019 · 365
bearded bouqet
picking flower from your beard

                      only in my dreams.

                                      daffodils from your eyes

                         intertwined around your glasses.

                                       I make a bouquet

                                            every night.

                                 hoping maybe in your dreams

                      you're picking flowers off me too.

                       clutched in your hands

                    maybe just one.
Wrote this on acid last night. Of someone I think about too much.

not sure about the formatting yet but eh.
Sep 2018 · 94
Speaking Lavender
In the middle of a clearing I am greeted by the damp grass, resting with a stagnancy never known to me before. The moss growing in between my fingernails and toes, embracing my once soft figure.

Welcoming to a new home, unconsumed by modern structures, the ants caressing in my loving arms, covering each blister. The amount of days I have laid here are past recall, but far more than the spiders held in each pocket.

The trees being the only witness to my presence, slightly shading me from rays of the sun that fixate so much on my inflated epidermis. The branches and leaves hiding, protecting me from the concrete and calls.

The shades of purples, blues, and yellows on my body complement the flowers blooming around my ears. My mouth slightly ajar, a surprised expression of not knowing how loud blossoms thrive in such silence.

The bees surrounding my cranium, whispering secrets that had never been told to any other humankind. I speak only in lavender, as my native tongue was dropped along the classified path I took.

The tall grass beginning to clasp around, tying me down as if begging to never let me leave. Slowly swallowing me whole, creating a barrier around my delicate frame, shielding from each rainfall and heatwave undoubtedly to come.

My eyes melt away, not needing the perception to see the world that was so harsh to me anymore, only needing to feel the sympathy it gives me now as it helps with this inevitable  transformation.

Never have I felt an immense sensation of biophilia until it welcomed me with such vigor. The ground I stepped on from birth now providing solace that I could not sought for. The gravel and dirt giving vast compassion when I was unable to ask.

I’m ****** into the land, hidden from the roars of others I once knew. My ears plugged from a name now so foreign to me, to go back to a place that I will never remember, and that will soon forget about me too.
Sep 2018 · 166
Night Timing
The other day I stuck my finger in the electrical socket, just to get one ounce of the spark you gave me with your touch. My finger tingled for an hour but it didn't give me my fix.

This morning I cried so hard that my room became the sea. I sailed away on my bed and promised to never go back to the person I was yesterday.

Last week I snuck up a building downtown just to have the feeling for a split second that I had made it to the top. I laid on my back and tried to grab the stars; "the most beautiful things just out of reach" you told me once.

This afternoon I went on a drive to clear my mind. On accident I turned in the wrong direction, but I wasn't opposed to going all around the globe to get to where I was going.

Last month I threw out everything in my room hoping that clearing it would do the same for my mind. I found the card you gave me years ago and slipped it under my bed. I obviously missed the purpose.

Tonight I sat outside the loneliest gas station in on earth. I watched the fluorescent lights flicker on and off. I figured it was counting the seconds it took for me to realize that you're not with me this time walking out with two slushies and a deep breath telling me not to worry.

Last year you told me that you loved me. Three words that suspended me well above cloud 9. Even when I felt my emotions could bend the universe, I didn't say it back.

Right now I'm sitting at our bench on Main st. as stardust seeps out of all the deep crevices in me and the cosmic magic of your presence becomes foreign to my body. Each car that passes by reminds me of that fragile night when ours turned the world upside down.

I stayed there, my neck askew, the ground above my head, out from the metal shell. Having no clue that your being had vanished from your own exterior. Unfamiliar faces surrounding me and caressing my bruised body, leaving yours, unloved, under the sheets.

I sit at this bench, wondering if I sit long enough, time will end and start over again, and you’ll come walking up to sit next to me, and I’ll never let you leave. I sit at this bench, reach for the stars still, trying to grab the most beautiful thing just out of reach.
changed some things around recently. this is a revised poem
the summer that made the sound of crickets mean more than it did two, three, even ten summers ago.

the summer that gave a warm glow within the halls of that familiar seasonal cottage
the creak from each step on the stairs was each a song to be sung
out the door to find her waiting for me

My heart taking delightful punches with each step closer to me
her sundresses a different shade of yellow just as the sun
It rays peeking through the trees to compliment her lovingly
Everyday was Sunday for us
as they flow with each skip my mind slows her down
watching every detail of her grace

the summer I learned that sunsets were made for girls with brown eyes
the earth revolved only for her so the sun would descend across the sky just so right to only fall into her vision
and to remind me "this is what home feels like"

the summer I found out that the gift life had given me was the gift of her presence for seven weeks.
the beauty in her was too delicate to give away to anyone and she let me
out of all the people on this planet see what god made special about her

the way she blinked three times when perplexed, before asking to know more
listen more
learn more

how she always peeled my tangerines
because she knew i didn't like the peel to get under my nails

when she laughed tears would always stream down her face
no matter a roar or a soft chuckle
and then she would swear the optometrist sprung a leak when she got Lasik

when she was sad that that leak was easy to repair with a Jerry Seinfeld  impression

The lone flickering street light on our street did not compare to her illumination at night
a glowing goddess amongst someone so meer
she was the embodiment of the sun

but summer begins to drop into fall.
as the trees started to lose green she packed to leave
and I did too
she was going back home and my home was leaving me

this girl was the ****** of my story and only at the tender age of 22
and I know my tale will never have its perfect resolution without her

that summer I found out she was the definition of my love
but to her I was just another girl in a sundress
sparked by a tweet i saw that read "sunsets were made for girls with brown eyes".
Oct 2015 · 1.8k
The memory of your touch on the earth will remain
As you glide through the Milkyway
Watching the earth circle the sun
You are part of every sunrise
You are part of every sunset

You're up there
Between the planets
Dancing on the moon
Inhaling stardust
Exhaling love
Lounging on an asteroid,
Tapping the ash off the tip of your cigarette on the galaxy's edge
Memories in constellations
That you twirl between your fingers

Our mission was together
But you decided to leave early
The suspension of your ship caught me off guard
I was too close to the flames
It burned me deeply
But I know the stars were meant for you

You're more infinite than you have ever been
Breathing easy; my fellow space cadet
I know you're okay
My wounds will heal
but the scars will remain.

You always loved my space poem, I thought I'd write one for you.
We were going to go to NASA in Houston together. I'm going to have to make that trip for both of us now.

I love you Desma, please don't be gone.
Sep 2014 · 2.6k
Trainee Space Explorer
You look at me as if I have galaxies in my eyes
with planets revolving around my body
and sunshine on my breath
out of the billions of stars in the sky you are my sun

I fell for an astronaut
ready to float through the space in my mind

I inhale your words and exhale star dust
forming the galaxies for you to travel

I am your space cadet,
my major interstellar
teach me to love the cosmos as much as you do
because I still have trouble loving
the constellations you see in me
sorry this is cheesy af
Sep 2014 · 504
sunshine in his eyes
never I would've thought
that I would be over you

that your fluorescence would always still shine in my eyes
no matter how much I squinted to distort your image
no matter how much I blocked it with my hands and my mind

never I would've thought
that your beam would be out-shone

until his light made you seem so dim
he has the sun in his eyes and I want to chase that horizon.
you're just a glare that makes me glare at the thought.
Sep 2014 · 89.7k
...beautiful (Haiku)
The perception of
beauty is all opinion.
so nothing is not...
does this make sense?????
Sep 2014 · 372
June 22nd, 2013
The past doesn't matter.
The future has ceased to count.
Nostalgic thoughts have vanished and
longing for the unborn memories of tomorrow
have left the frame of mind.

Time has stopped, and all significant attention is
revolving around you and me.
We are in the moment of now.
It is just between us.
this was about you
Sep 2014 · 1.1k
The Ocean
vigorous or calm
it will always remind me of you.
the smell of the sea brings back nostalgia.
the same reassuring feeling
you gave runs through my mind.

stepping on the heated sand
gives me the same warm sensation
I got whenever I crossed your path.
the wet sand forms with each step
just like how my smile molded
with each sweet word you spoke.
the swift back and forth motion of the waves
it's constancy having the same beautiful flow of your voice.

watching the water crash against the rocks
they hit hard against it without hesitation

just as hard as it hit me
when you told me there was somebody else.

my heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach
as fast as the stone I cast in the water
sinks to the ocean floor.

the tide finally glide past my ankles
and I try to imagine someone else.
it never works though.
my fingers become numb with the thought
that my image will never appear in your mind again.

my eyes burn.

I feel my throat get tight.

I pretend the ocean reminds me of nobody.
but once the tide goes down
I only see your face washed up on shore.
Just another poem about a boy

— The End —