#bewilderment
Calumnious fractures of splintered time, where
my flame transverse the corridors of a place, where space refuses to echo her sigil — a Hiraeth crime.. nothing worth redefining.
The pulchritudinous ache, beauty's cruelest bite.. As the intense illuminance her obsidian pull, i fall upon to worlds of constellations that i drift fractalized, but correlating in her eyes. lost in mirrored paradigm where the shadow she possess hugs tighter than any captivity i been enthralled by. Yielding to witness her radiant remnants, transcendent temptress appearing to be of a multitude where
retina's of others wont comprehend that precious design that delicate sacred jagged chasm between our sentiments and the rudiments of a amaranthine entanglement.. as we felt in that moment our hearts reverberate the moment our eyes align to design.
This bond is not merely a surface-level recognition it's a resurrection of primal star's recognizing another across the shared atmosphere that once caused despair but my ego was killed off dear, in a former life that no longer suffices our frequency, frequently the lonesome resonance of an essence.. that meant missing.
Ominous resolutions, tremble in the seams where faces feels like apparitions of what former had recumbences. .
Two dying suns whose only remaining gravity is the weight of what once corresponded between them that once magically cast the dust into nothing.
utterly ensorcelled by her quiet confidence, enchained by shadows emitting a familiar gaze
as i dismiss it has another haze.
ensorcelled utterly by her in unspoken way.. where the everything dematerialize into a cavern of her cathedral of collapsing light.
awoken to the fact i was you ravage my design the first time we intertwined.. where all opposite coalesce to a light we once cherished.. but now it remains a mirage.
I'm reliquary of a time where we intricately enshrined... and entwine across the fabrics of our dreams rested.. and the stars and the sky didn't divide when our hemispheres blurred and heart's arrested.
Where our veins were maps to the abyss.
you altered the architecture of my suffering, galaxies buried inside your eyes.. cold and endlessly collapsing into themselves.
that rupture they felt their extinguished star. the primordial yearn.. where the eclipse remains
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 2:59 AM UTC
A lake
Running deep
A line stretched
To its core.
What is it that makes me so
Unsure?
A hand
In a trembling fit
Reaches towards a heaven,
May I be free forevermore.
A threatening warmth in my centre
Drowns my soul,
Permanently stuck in a winter
It’s futile to wait
For the passing of the cold
So I am stuck
In my own
Quicksand.
Stuck
Unable to understand
The magnitude of it all
And so I fall
And a certain numbness takes over me,
A certain bewilderment
Because I have been seized and
I do not see.
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 11:24 AM UTC
Oh how I love
the ambiguity of the word ‘sea’:
It could mean lovely serenity,
otherwise destructive tsunamis;
It embodies both abundance of peace, and/or
luxuriance of lonesomeness;
It deceits us
through its luring crystalline waters
with the deathly depths we’re unaware of.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 11:41 AM UTC
Roller coaster...
it propels you to the zenith of ecstasy
to hurl you surlily to the pits of agony.
It mocks your senses,
turns your sensibilities upside down,
pounds your heart to panic bewilderment.
It dishevels your tranquillity,
shoves you to a hysteric frenzy,
pushes you into the dark world of insanity.
Still, we cherish the thrill of its madness,
outwit each other
to jump on the bandwagon
that takes us to the holes of delusion!
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 11:59 PM UTC
what is happening
has the earth fallen
off its rotation
leaning on the edge
of oblivion
has the sun died
burnt out
like an exhausted
light bulb
has the moon imploded
crumbled
fallen to dust
I realize not
and yet
the world seems askew
out of sync
I can't find an answer
it's out of reach
beyond an eternity
my mind can't fathom
can't comprehend
my thoughts are confined
within this realm
and so
it continues
the earth spins
the sun shines
the moon exists
and I wonder
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
i am
a confusing person.
i may
love things
that i hate;
i may
hate things
that i love.
sometimes
i adore the sun setting
and i close my eyes
as the sun drapes itself
with dust and memories.
then
i despise the way
the sun rises
with false anticipation
for children chasing them,
desiring to touch
even a glint of gold
and sunlight.
but i try not to love
the way your crooked smile
makes everything look
endearing.
because
i am afraid
that i will soon learn
to hate it.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 5:49 AM UTC
So.
Here I stand,
alone,
a tall, awkward pole in the vast,
echoing desolation that used to be
us.
And I wonder,
Bewildered,
what the **** just happened.
And the answer rings like a bell -
clear in the silence:
I was not enough.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 3:07 AM UTC
We do our extensive research
But yet, we still may not come up with the right solution
In a state of bewilderment
With lots of frustration and confusion
We feel incomplete
Because, we are often left in darkness
Fear and anxiety sadly appear
Some of us would rather keep in silence
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 10:22 PM UTC
The road darkens quickly;
it turns and sways
and tapers off into an unseeable zenith.
The gravel cracks
and rolls underfoot.
This road peels skin off of knees. This road
rips palms to shreds
but I've traversed it many times;
I can recall each boulder and each
protruding limb.
I nestle between the crags and
I bathe in the starlit puddles. The water is
murky and littered
with bottles, with pens, with Barbie dolls.
It is lukewarm.
I revel in my shivering, pruning skin.
I walked along its path
yesterday.
I closed my eyes but
I listened well.
Unholy silence.
I lifted my foot and triumphed a
broken branch that always exists. I could run
this road blinded and gagged.
I dipped my toe in a puddle. Time
wouldn't let me
bathe.
Darkness fell beyond my eyelids and chilled
these fragile shrouds.
I leapt over a crag. It has grown
since I've been gone.
I fell into its depths. It isn't a crag at all:
it is the end.
This road has broken off and it
dangles children's toys
off a precipice.
I am still falling. The wind lashes at my eyes
and dries out my tongue.
I am blinded and I am gagged, but
I do not know this road at all.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
Visiting my parents I learned
that I am being played, a game
in which I am board and piece and ****** weapon.
When a picture of me sulky toddler evokes “You always hated me”
roots uncurl hibernated spores stored
through my salad days and youthful spring.
Broach the soil as I **** ankles grabbed,
leg-locked planted firm reaching.
What do you think grows down there? Digging has
turned up rotted fibers, matted hairs and husks.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
*Why do I feel lost I do not know.
In middle of an ocean in a boat I cannot row.
I have been passing my days in slumber
did not care too much apart from hunger
for I know, time is what I did swallow
Lonely in this room I grab my pen
But I am no Lion, resting in his den
golden rays roar from behind the cloud
when the sun shall set, was always a doubt
for I know, love can never happen again*
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
What does one do when they have no inspiration?
How does an artist stay an artist without a muse?
How does one lonely poet write her most beautiful piece yet without the heartbreak driving her nails?
How can a beauty stand alone,
No lover or wondering eye,
How can she love herself when no one is around to hold her up,
When she tears herself down?
When does inspiration strike?
Is it holding your lovers hand or avenging your fallen warrior?
Is it lying alone in a large unforgiving bed,
With the sounds of your sobs as your dying lullaby?
What is inspiration?
When does it strike?
Maybe at the end of this poem,
I'll find mine.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:43 AM UTC
On a crazy high, I share whole of myself with you, gladly
your melting heart I took over fully, do you feel it as a loss?
when love makes us so insane, we go berserk like wild fire,
avaricious kids, now we are, usurping each other in parts,
where will it all lead, my love, baffling it is, but elating all the same
would we be just the same ,or less; perhaps more than what before?
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
We have defiled her
She screams silently while we claim we have refined her
She grew up inside roses,
a single dress with footsteps of needle sets.
Her thighs now smothered by ropes of skirts, each embedding it's mark, these are the scars she must bear.
Her parents are skeletons, pendulous in coat hangers, dressed in old leathers with jaws fractured.
have we refined her as we claim?
Silently she screams
We have defiled her!
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
Scandalous is a person
A detail the dictionary forgot
They didn't have the joy of knowing you
They never will.
You left the same way you entered:
Inexplicably
Your enthusiasm caught us along
Spontaneously reckless
Always just around the corner
Cackling, head thrown back
Shocking me into hilarity
And now you're....
Elsewhere.
Oh goofy
Oh who's going to play beanie babies now?
The horses and ponies are missing from our field
The irises are blooming wild
Purple owls growl at me in the night time
All these displaced riders
Muttering "where is my niche?" over and over
As we spin
Fantails pecking at our insides.
The doorway was too small for the coffin
You would have laughed uproariously
We giggled, breaking the tension.
They removed the door,
Replacing it after.
Please shock me:
Sit up,
Hold my hand,
Something!
But you've turned to stone
And my doorway is too small
There's too much to let out
It all pushes at once
And nothing can get through
So I slowly remove my own hinges
And try to carry on.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
Clouds rolling overhead.
White puffs of smoke to me.
Laying here legs crossed.
Wondering where my soul was...
Clouds rolling overhead,
Dancing in white and out grey.
Causing flashbacks,
Flashbacks I wish weren't true.
Laying with legs crossed,
Tightening my grip on the branch above me.
Ropes hanging loosely,
Upon this hanging tree.
Scary?
Hardly...
Strange things have happened here,
Nightmares have come.
Their blasphemy!
Clouds rolling overhead,
In dark masses of grey.
Covering a sky once blue.
Laying here legs crossed,
Seeing the fire in the distance.
Of the dead forest below.
In the hanging tree...
Strange things have happened here,
No stranger would it be.
If my love and I.
Met at midnight,
Within the hanging tree.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
At the shore of the ocean I saw
a penguine flapping it's wings climbing the wind,
left the sky shattered
Into pieces I couldn't breath.
Feathers fell from the sky and
lifted what was left behind.
I closed my eyes and continued living blind.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
angry men who do not know I do not have a dollar or a cig to spare. Ugly irrefutable contagion-handed howlers. Angry mischievous heathens that pantomime on 6:00a.m. sidewalk, Wicker Park gallow stop-sign, choreographed gutter-punk drunk walk. And of all he wants and could ever want splits down his gooey membrane brain in the outline of a noun shaped fragment of a clause, "Couldja spare 80¢ for the train," but of course I don't spare on the ellipsis or the period. Semi-colons I won't! My rubber-bottomed leather boots lash out, heavy scraping sounds trail this mirrored shadow half an angle behind me.
***** Blonde framed sunglasses from American Apparel, a gift from my sister in a folded Ray-Ban case is scattered on last nights bedroom floor, my girlfriend has certainly not noticed, the gloom-coated morning sun spray has not noticed; but I have unzipped a fissure in the ocular lens. My heart skips a beat. Her bedroom might as well have swallowed them whole. Now the house can halt and have the shade, swaying in Spring air in 10:22a.m. shadows. The aviator himself Howard Hughes would strike me with his 488 aircraft. Edwin Starr in his invincible sinister calypso of War would turn me round. I was sturdy as a rock until I began to forget my forgottens. These unknown unknowns I knew I needed. I'm over a quarter-century on to noon going nowhere- and quite blindly.
But then, still she could stand upright and find me. Her neck crooked, looking onward through the East, the gristly roots of rhubarb buried in her searching fingernails. She's threaded worse, and of course if I could just tell her- this is the kind of nursing which requires acute temperament and flexibility. I am thus on a journey to strike nonsense and fear from the idiotic vocabulary that put this nonsense in my head. Split through me like a butter knife into my apotropaic. Perhaps tar water could cure my ails. If not, certainly a sliver of vanilla would set me straight. Or if could just rain rain rain all day, then I'd make do without, but she is at school. My pistons are racked and nervous, and I'm not going anywhere but my rucksack stoop. I am camped in midwestern Spring soup. Fog, rain, and shade. The nightmare of day.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC