I know a boy who cheated the sun- he says,
"It's different than it was supposed to be;"
I remember him holding serpents between his fingers, riding waves and running-
from the children-
with joy in his eyes.
Not sure why my eyes are so haunted- all my
ghosts are in the past
and as tired as I am today,
nothing will top last February
or the one before that,
or the January before that one.
I was never supposed to be older than he was;
time drips past us like blood, true,
but it's as equal to me as it is to you.
I don't remember him finishing school-
I suppose we have that in common-
But I remember the game he taught me
(even that was a cheat… a game of lies).
I just wish he realized that when he took those days from the sun,
he was cheating everyone else too.
if you loved me
whyd you leave me
if i loved you
whyd i let you
whyd you save me
only to leave me
whyd you go somewhere you knew i couldnt find
let me be
_stop the bit
I'm out of breath
written on September 15, 2020
Sensual nights where
Your voice is deepening with
Slipping hands catching
Cliffs of my torso
Boulders and canyons.
Skies pressing feverishly on mountains
And hills, ridges and curves.
Ecstasy drifting down the river
Of my skin.
Oh my golly, this euphoric, chemical
A delusion I got swept in.
Teaching me about oblivion.
Keep me here.
You hold me and it’s not that
Fair of you to do
So you do it anyways
Don’t forget to lock up when you go out
Keep it close to the vest and never open up
My heart speaks but everybody just leaves
I’m told my house is the only thing that’ll accept me
You are the only one, who is the writer(of your book)
rest everyone is a reader!
They can read you, feel you, think you, tell you
but, you are the only one, who knows what are you
real you are buried deep inside that book,
people are reading it, but nobody knows you
Because you are only you, who is born alone and die alone!
The real meaning of being you
Who is it?
The one who will make you crumble
The one who will make you feel bad
The one who will bring you down
Who is it?
The one who will make you happy
The one who will make you feel alright
The one who will bring you up
Who is it?
It is your ownself
No one else
My mentor passed away recently. She wrote me a letter to state all this.
Few days after, my current coach and mentor said the same thing.
We are our own worst enemies.
mirrored reflections of a thousand selves
one body,one soul
an infinty, she was
One could argue that as you get older, you become a better stoic. Masking your whims, desires and pleasures with logic, reason and meaning. Taking the less scenic route, becoming more utilitarian and the stick that’s up your **** plunges a little further..
And What about the artist that emotionally abuses the kid within and constantly exploits its innocence. Strumming the strings of vulnerability for relatability. Lusting over Monet clouds as painted tears conjure real ones..
Apologies for the preachy undertone, I too buried my cornea in the conneries without a veil, with chin to palm Coveting a utopia. However The dance around the bugbear has since become medieval. I gave it a good hug, tears of tranquility as we initiate the coagulation..
But I need a good light, one that outdoes a good filter. Sending shadows to the creases of the crater. The eclipsed sun carves the frame for a Godlike aesthetic and then I forget to write. Sometimes I forget I’m alive.