I want to reach new heights,
fly like there's no tomorrow,
I want to scoop the world in my palms
and protect it from deadly folks and deep hollows.
It's my dream,
a simple desire,
am I asking for too much?
or am I just being naive?
It pains me to see everything crumble away,
pains me to see that we're living at the end of the days,
it pains me to just stare at the stars,
and wish to vanish as far
as my soul can escape.
Sometimes, we must realize the world we're living in and try to think about how we can save it from turning into ashes and dust.
Clear blue skies;
under the coconut trees
I’m taking a selfie.
And their flailing arms
Wafting the day
As if to say
Let your troubles
And your cares
Be swept away.
Blue sky, gentle breeze, swaying palm, life’s a charm.
One sock at a time
With elbows glued together behind
I work with
A pencil in each finger
Whispering something about me and
The sweaty palms.
I work keeping
My shoelaces untied so
I may trip over them
And fall to the ground so that,
By some miracle of God
Or a stay in the hospital,
Find a way to
Keep my toes
Warm; work without trouble.
She holds her palms
Towards the sky
Her silent wishes
The universe listens
And her inner voice
Echoes throughout eternity
With eyes closed
Her heart opens
All of her fears
With a strong faith
She is moved within
The veil is removed
Heaven and earth
My neck feels so anxious
The last time it had laid on a pillow
It felt an utter discomfort
Where on the bed should my hair be placed
For each strand has grown so tall with such a pace
My callus is so pale
Frozen are my palms
Lips fall dead dry ,no, I don't apply any flavoured balm
Eyes behold an anchor upon
I curl up under the sheets
But by the morning I'm fresh and flushed.
Cold in a corner
Scribbling over my tears
Exposed toes and clammy hands
Scribbling my inner demands
Lost in my own home
Head towards the ground
Making a cowering sound
Holding my head between my palms
Two elbows on the countertop
Water is used to generate electricity
On my palms, it powers nervousness
Or nervousness stimulates the gushing of water from my palms
Better still, I will say it's a bi-directional mechanism
My drawing class was a mess
Every paper ripped before I could draw a thing
You can't imagine the stress
When your palm is another stream
I dread a handshake
Especially when my hand feels like a lake
I can't stand the expressions on people's faces
Or how they have to quickly clean their hands on their pants
Please find me an escape route
That's the struggle of sweaty palms!
You never understand what people with sweaty palms go through, I haven't found just one benefit in over 20 years that I've been dealing with it.
I sat beneath the old saffron
willow, crumbling leaves
to dust in my soft palms.
Autumn creeped in once again,
setting the trees on fire and carrying
their leaves away with the cool wind.
I looked across the dirt road, at the
old, blackened house, bathed in sunlight.
The peeling paint leapt out like specks of glitter into the wind.
Years of memories were still trapped within its walls.
More than the leaves caught fire.