Optimism
The dogma that is oh so self-assured of the contingency
proclaiming the prevalence of good over infamy
as though it is incontrovertibly concordant with factual certainty
'tis merely a fallacy or an element of a fantasy in which people live in harmony

Life
But really, in this cruel realm, the mistakes of our forefathers
manifest themselves as demons hollering at us to notify us of the need to be better in this endeavour
or we'd get slaughtered with the blade of a knife comprised of their defeats altogether
forged into a skin piercing crystal reminiscent of their congealed sweat that perspired from the extreme pressure
stimulated from bottling up anger and restraining themselves from speaking up against transgressors
nevertheless, we make the same mistakes to pass it on to the next generation deeming them the successors of displeasure tolerators

Death
What are the benefits of labouring through a 9 to 5 job if its eventuality
is the same as that of lying on the ground all day? It will all come to a finality
the universe is indifferent towards our actuality. It will continue expanding until it reaches the point of totality
emotions are nothing but particular sequences of electric pulses in wads of matter, faulty physicality
any memory held by any entity will eventually be lost at the end of this simulation played out chronologically

her eyes were
hot coals
char marks marring my
soul
fiery black fists spitting
golden embers
too hot to touch
to get too close
to see the real
her.

- love is a raging inferno i can no longer help tame with your hand

yeah i was just the same
one boy trying my luck.
there was another
one boy trying his luck.
we were together
forever
absent
from each other.

he left.

roses bushes are beautiful
thorny branches
of memory.
i ***** myself.
i pricked him.
rose bushes are beautiful
intricate expressions.
i picked one for myself.
i picked one for him.

years pass and the rose bush
dies and
lives on
in me.

i keep the petals in a jar on my bedside.
i shake that jar,
petals rise.

i keep the petals in a jar on my bedside,
i shake that jar,
watch the petals collapse.

i cover my bed in all the jars of petals
i unscrew the top,
the petals float flat.

each petal is
a part of
me,
a part of
history.
A part of our history.

i keep the thorns in a jar on my bedside.
i shake that jar,
watch the thorns collide.

i cover my bed in all the jars of thorns.
i unscrew the top and watch the thorns
get
lost.
i pick them out of my chest upon waking,
a ***** like a misplaced full-stop.

— where did you go?

Hello.
I am the trending poem.                                                            ­            
         you see me and I make you feel alive
                                             so you like me and re-post me
                                                              ­    then you leave me alone to die.
Hello,
I am your forgotten lines.
             you created me with a careful love
                                                          an­d decisive rhymes
                                      and then to the bottom of your page I'm shoved.
Hello
I am forgotten, alone and unloved
                           a faded smile a broken dove
                                               I once was beautiful, touching.
                                                       ­   now, I've been replaced, I'm nothing.

Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.

Porcelain face,
Scarlet dripping from your veins
too beautiful and vain
for this world it was pain
Porcelain eyes,
Make no disguise, Those glossy tears
they lie on your
porcelain cheeks
rosy red sheek
As you lay,
Like a porcelain dream

hashtags
do not bring back the dead.

they do not cause souls
to rise out of the ashes they lay to rest in.

hashtags

raise awareness for

loss
hurt
pain

and that ache in your chest you get
when you realize
that
nothing
is
the
same.

Because If im being honest,

making something a trending topic

is the only way

to make people

give
a
****.

She cannot find words
to describe this hollowness inside her
as if her heart was carved out
and put on display
but everyone didn't bother take a second look
as they walked past her carved out heart
and they still had their own in their chest,
Pumping rythmically whilst she had not felt a beat for awhile now
but she did not ask for it to be removed,
it was simply stolen from her
By a boy with dark hair and a pale face
She'll never forget those crystal blue eyes;
as she could stare at them for days
Yet she's hollow now and his eyes were like the arctic,
Cold and indifferent
And it seemed as if he had never cared in the first place,
He just wanted her heart.