Be the amber stone I wear around my neck
So your presence weighs upon me
Be the noose that's not too loose
Like a hairband too tight to pull through
Be the virus in my body
That no medication can treat
Be the white noise in my head
So I can't properly think
Be the darkness of my shadow
So I feel you loom as the hours pass
Be that sensation before I sneeze
So I feel you linger when my nose hits the breeze
Be the God to my religion
So I can feel you all around me
Be the devil in the details
To feel your curses smite me
Do not, however, be my downfall
Even though you already are
By being the haunting of my waking thoughts
You've left me considering your skin with my scars
Death Shallows at the door
Forever Present for what's in store
Our Eyes can't see for what's to come
Feel the burning bush and silent hum
The grim reaper knows no bounds
Black drapes over light to disappear here and now
In the world of darkness, you look forward to the light
A time from now see will flicker and bright
But for now you are a child in the black
Waiting for the creator to manifest a hack
I have always struggled with my gender and sexual identity.
And that's the problem.
Trying to identify and entity
That knows no boundaries
Lines are blurred
The lines disappear
Falling into the shells
Deffirentiating heaven and hell
On earth as it is in any direction
There is no grey
There is not blackness or light
No sadnesses or joy
Alone in the oneness
Of devotion and bliss
In a world free from judgments
Perceptions are our imaginations
I'm not a person who collects things
I live a very minimalist's life
But I have a bag of treasures
I keep close to me day and night
I sleep on an old painted daybed
It squeaks softly as I lay down
Most of my clothes are second hand
And my shoes a little worn down
But I have some precious treasures
Hidden in bags of different names
Fendi, Burberry and Prada
Leathers and fabrics of worldly fame
My treasures are hidden deep inside
In makeup bags and zippered pockets
Shiny compacts full of velvety colors
From Paris, Milan and Rome
A black cloth bag of 8 tiny bottles
Protected from the sun and rain
Bottles of perfume oils made in an alchemist's lab
With names like Dragon's Milk, Snow White and Bliss
A Christian Dior handkerchief or two
Hangs delicately inside the bag
In case the breeze brings on a sneeze
Or I notice a tear in the eye of a friend
by Mark Lj
One deep breath pushes the anxiety down my throat,
just enough to stop my hands from shaking.
my fingers fumble with buttons,
false comfort lost with each layer.
I'm naked and exposed,
eyes flickering across my body,
contradictions piling up,
making self recognition and impossible task.
A broken binary lies scattered at my feet
like the clothes I've come to dread
and the skin I wish to shed.
Overwrite moments w/ 1s and 0s,
in binary mood,
until love is gone for good.
Do you remember when we
were 1 amongst many 0s?
What was once the sound
of a smile in your laughter,
tied together by sine waves,
will become empty 1s, empty 0s
after we press ‘Y’.
And the machine will
wipe the sectors for days,
until the cycles become unreadable,
and that’s when
our love will truly be gone for good.
Like a puzzle you try to solve
with the wrong pieces.
And now smashes the hammer.
Only the hit will tell
how gone for good our love will be.