we stay up all night
for no particular reason, and you tell me
all sorts of things that i want to hear
and it's funny because (like a little inside joke)
you know what you're doing. you know
that i know what you're doing.
but you tell me anyway, because
the black mold on your ceiling is shaped like a heart.
because your favorite character from that one show
you can't stop thinking about
reminds you of me. and i wanna tell you to stop,
i wanna make you wish you were here
just to shove my head on the ground
by my hair, rip my lying tongue out with teeth -
but why should i care?
(masque ou décor, salut!)
baby, if we're gonna break each other apart
we better make it count.
the pain better be what it takes
to grind a billion galaxies into a single
aching spot of phenomenal heat.

we'll restart the universe with this. but meanwhile,
did you know (it's funny, like an inside joke)
that pain means bread in french?

The rain keeps falling
As dry as a drought.

                       “ Rain drops heavier than water,
                           When it’s laden with doubt. “
He said,
                       “ The ground simply can’t hold it
                                     … So it must go without. “

               ” You’ve never known water to stain,
                  But you’ve never felt this kind of rain.
                  It’s thicker than your skin.
                  It stains your clothes and what’s within.
                  It sounds like hammers as it pounds -
                 And yet, the ground won’t let it in.

          So it flows like a river that only gets bigger;
          It runs like a force that knows no remorse.
                     Despite endless efforts to stop it -
                     It still runs like a faucet…
                                        With nowhere to drain. "

But if the ground holds no plants, is the water so vital?
Is the rain’s sole purpose this lifeless recital?
The ground stays so strong.
It holds fast, like pure stone
But can one stay so long when one’s so alone?
When one is forced to move,
               Will the ground or the rain?
And when the first one has gone,
               Will the other remain?


For now, they coexist,
Each facing a challenge it can’t resist -
Both unstoppable and immovable,
                              They hopelessly persist.
As complements, they combine
                        With the product of a flood.
But the water that’s collecting
                        Has the consistency of blood.

There’s a heart behind this water.
It pulses, instead of flowing.
So you turn to the only man you know,
             for parting words with danger growing.
And he says, as you leave:

               “ I wish you luck where you are going.
                   My son, you’ve only seen the rain . . .
                    . . . The winds are not yet blowing.

Everywhere we look,
There are sprinkles scattered across the sky
Marshmallow trees that tower over us
And grass made of fruit laces which
entangles us together, forever.

I pick a flower for you that smells like jelly beans,
Reminding us of our youth, our colour.
Strawberry-scented birds swoop around us,
Laughing and singing in angel delight while
blueberry bees buzz in return.

I turn to look into your chocolate brown eyes which
melt into bliss,
But beware of such sweetness as it can become
so sour.

We met in the summertime,
which I recall because the AC in his apartment
was mediocre at best,
and fans were splayed throughout the
white-walled space as we attempted to
keep cool.

His roommate introduced me,
as he sat with no shirt on,
perched on a wooden chair,
staring intently at a deck of cards.

I think the first thing I noticed was the dazzle of
his smile,
but I can't pretend my eyes didn't veer
to the perfect V that was on display
just above his basketball shorts.

His skin glowed a perfect shade of honey and
cinnamon
in the dim lighting
that emitted from the sole lamp in the corner
of the living room.

I became submerged in a blur of
card games and laughter
and an eerily similar taste in music,
so much so that I forgot it was not he
who I had come to see.

I gaze upon its splendor weeping
A masterpiece beyond fathomability stealing my breathe away as time stills and the emotions bloom...
This is love!
This is magnificence!
This is existence!

But only for a moment...
Only for eternity.

No one could hear that sound.
The eerie sound of nothing, of no one
for all was a sea of laughter, with waves of glee.
Golden smiles like the sun shining down with no
sign of tears rolling in or screams from above;
That was painted in our minds.

Your eyes saw this and much more.
Hearing the same waves crashing and birds singing,
The same smell of pure hearts like salt in the air
lingering, distorting the truth that was all too known.
You could read the pages of each bird's fate clearly
without their eyes glances to aid.

Your face was just a ghost in gold.
A fake smile shining, shielding the fact that
These birds would soon drown, the water burning
them in their glee and revealing their true hatred.
Your fate was a matching pair, you could hear the sound
of nothing, fate's voice.

You enjoy the lies amongst the people
that all will be well once this party dies, fades
and laugh you remaining minutes away.
Your eyes, your topaz stones shine despite the fact
that you know what the calls of birds represent.
The Silence Before The Storm.