From the warm breath of bright light,
blue sky breaks through our dormancy.
Cool breeze still keeps on bare air,
whilst curved lines rise bound in time
to care for the meaning of life.

We're expected to expand or contract,
responding to vast constructs set upon us.
It's easy to forget measures of the present tense.
Stillness often corrects parallels to connect, as impulses bubble up to ****** inside the mind.

Characters unseen play amongst the set,
there are integrated games we gain but our existence is said to be simplistic.
Focus on your sense of self and betterment, less complicated within the riddles of preconditioning.
Here to give, win and begin again.

The mid noon sky bleeds out; it bruises in flames.
Arsonists hold their gassers to my face.
In their grisly field of vision, I am a delectable
vapor, born to flit away.
Regard not the orange cones, nor the caution tapes:
these gates hold little significance to them.

(Then the other 'a-word' comes to mind: anarchists)

Prior to this, they had presented themselves
as chess pieces to fall in love with—little do they know,
I've an animus for them. As stupid as I may appear,
I know it's a game!

Unzipping out of incognito mode, they have unleashed
their razor blade. They whizz their wings.
Here they come, coming for me.

Here I go again: counting sheep,
blinking for one whole eternity.

Oh doctor! I'm in dire need of your vampiric syringe.
Swill my peaking adrenaline— at this rate, I'll go mad.
I shall never recuperate.

Mollify my entirety.
Teach me to rollick like angels do. I beg you.

You stand in front of me, eyes wide.
Those eyes stare at me.
Big and bulging yet beautiful nonetheless.
Eyes that describe a thousand words in a look.

They can describe pain and misery through their greyish blue colour with a piercing stab straight into my heart making me question what it is they want, and why I’m scared.

Or, the blue colour comes to life and you tell me stories of the sky, the sky that resembles the colour of your eyes. Happy tales of a better time or a bright future.

or the scariest of them all.

they say nothing

there is no blue



there is no light










it’s grey
and you’re done looking at me


But for now, your eyes stare at me.
It isn’t a blue,
or a grey
Or even a blueish grey.

It’s just your eyes staring at me, and I stare back.
There aren’t a thousand words.
There isn’t a story.
It’s just you,
and it’s just me.

It’s a nice feeling.
You blink.
I blink back.

Even though you could feel it
                     fathomless than your soul.

We glimmered into each other's lagoons,
            and for that finite moment we
swam within the moment of the
   past,
          future,


present.

That even though you were
                bleeding out, we knew that
we were one the blade, you, me


                          us.....

I didn't pull it out,
as I knew id lose you.
               Instead, I shredded my shirt,
    collected it around the wound
that was never meant to be.

I was a killer of many dreams,
            but you were the reality that
awoke me to the possibility of u and me.

As u bled out we wrote a story of what was,
   could have been...

911 was our ring tone of love,

And the ambulance was the church bells
             of our blisful joyning.

When the investigation of our meeting was
                                                                ­    over.
We were together,
the scars of both united of us,
                                that we were meant to be.

But love has many sharp edges and we both
           had a blade under our pillows..

Sweet dreams were  balance on serrated edges

I don't want love for the wrong reasons
Just to get over you
I want to have a different taste of the champagne that love could pour me
I want to get drunk in love that I only say her name and not yours
I want to make new memories and  let go of ones we had
I don't want to fail her like I did with you
I want to make her the happiest girl in this world
So please get out of my head
For the space in my heart that once belonged to you is now filled with her and there no turning back

The original dream
Shared a vision of happiness,
Harmonious circumstances
Character witnesses to a life,
That flowed unerringly
Across a landscape
Of perfection.

Then came the descendants;
Other dreams,
Where illusions were introduced
And the landscape underwent
Subtle changes,
Twists and turns
Seemingly random, chaotic eddies
Fractal logic prevailing;
The dream deviated
Always pushing and swelling
At the edge of
Its ever-expanding territory.

Standing anywhere along that edge
One can see a little more or less
Of the horizon
Than at any other position,
Equilateral sight
Into the possibilities
Of the future,
And looking back
A seemingly random path,
And though chaotic
It clearly made sense,
At each individual instant.