An artist too lazy to make any art
So what am I?
The sleepy commitment holding your hand in public places
An enormous gratitude lounging in between spaces with a stain on her shirt
Always seeking to be the next big thing
Unable to process any other philosophy
that doesn't kiss me when I'm nervous
Lights turning on in the afternoon
And the warm glow of knowing people are inside
Ready to open up the door and invite you into the individual smells that occupy their reality
I am I-don't-remember-the-city-anymore girl
Sterile buildings and antiseptic coast
Are both memory and fiction
I am everything's-sort-of-familiar and yet exactly obscure
A contrarian careful to never admit that everything
Will make sense with enough persuasion
In the corners of my mind sits a woman
Smoothing out creases of my brain like the folds on bed sheets
Or the wrinkles in a shirt
And I allow her to because I love her
And I believe that what she does is affection
And maybe I'm right
Or maybe I'm wrong and I was never an artist
But something else entirely because that's so much easier
I hurted you, unwillingly...
I never meant that,
I love you with my all
Hurting you hurt me more
Than you could ever understand or feel...
I need you each and every moment
You know it very well
But still away from me..
You always say you care..
Then come to me now..
Leave your anger,
Leave your ego,
Just hold my hand..
I need you alot..
I love you never means it about only love..
I say this because you're something more for me than my life,
than my everything..
Please talk to me...
Forgive me sweet heart!!!
Forgive this fool girl!!!
Baabaa.. Please talk to me...My words my lines my thoughts.
Everything is fading away...
I love uh...U know very well that ur absence hurt me..Kills me..Then y ru doing...Come to me please..Hold me again... Please..baabaa
My whole upbringing,
All the things that I've done
And all of whom I have met;
Everything I have seen
In my homeland and overseas;
Every wasted thought,
Stories I have kept to myself,
Words I have shared in vain...
Such a quantity of inputs,
From ears, eyes and touch;
So much thought invested
Trying to uncover new paths;
All this pain for all this time,
All the joys that last a while;
They amount to just a few...
A few more clever taps
On top of the screen
Of an electronic pad.
Written in December 2018.
Seeing Simple Sacred Scenes,
and then staring at those
Silently and Solemnly-
I hold tightly onto that sight.
*That vision of those three old friends,
at the end of that ally,
Waiting. In the soft June rain
just waiting for me to reach them.
for their friend.
Genuine friendship is warmer than gold- when we were young and now that we're old
the ivy grows upwards
clawing at a ceiling fan
looking to catch a glimpse of movement
the dust collecting on the blades is only proof of it's constant use
propelling a back and forth lasso of breath and exhale
my body has grown since last summer
the color of my eye mimicking jars of honey on your favorite shelf
I used to seek out momentum, the tumult of a sweaty night or the ongoing pulse of crowded people in small houses laughing about the spilled wine on hardwood floors
I can't tell if I was ever that person or if she was a catalyst of boredom swamping my every decision-making unable to make one properly for myself
I want noise and quiet
gritting teeth but a perfect mouth
I can't help but think of all my bones when walking outside
keeping me upright and unbreakable if only a shadowy and milky illusion
those places in my mind keep collecting freckles of dust and the people I've left behind now have blurry faces and unrecognizable personalities
but where there was once melancholy for different times
there's only a dog pulling me forward as the ivy grows up
its me i'm the ivy
NOISE does unfair,
Even at workplace,
at home makes restless.
With only tortures and pains,
this noise makes no sense.
NOISE breaks focus,
annoys, irritates us.
Freezes our mind,
blowing noisy winds.
By giving only pains,
this noise makes no sense.
NOISE of war,
shows end isn't far.
Noise of deads,
shows life's dark shades.
Showing our offense,
this noise makes sense.
Somebody ask me, what's independent ?
And I said independent is
People will kept on push you on the edge and you had to survive
Survive dear, save yourself from this people
nobody will help you
All had is “you”
there were times i just need someone said enough and stop me. Its hard life
I would love to dance with you for dancing we never
got. the chance to do for the pains that you suffered
never allowed us
But In my dreams, It's where go I dancing with you my darling I'll never let go together we'll slow dance night
Then straight on till morning It's to then I'll awake from my beautiful
dream of you remembering the last
and final dance with
Always wanted to dance with Helen but through pains of disability It never allowed us to
It pains me
someone being treated
should be treated even.
everyone has an opinion.
has feelings and
has the right to keep on dreaming.