#brainstorm
Flowers 🌺 💐 sit on the windowsill
just waiting to die inside themselves
trying to bloom and bud but how can they when I’m yours?
Words fade as the breeze sweeps through bringing scents of jasmine, lilies and lilacs.
I listen to the sincerity play and echo in the background as the summer sun hits the light just right. I see you in this perfect light and I forget about the 🌺 flowers and the seeping ☠️ poison keeping them alive.
As a man I let you inside and run and hide I could not it was only a matter of time before the flowers would die.
I knew the whole time I could never bloom for you.
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 12:08 PM UTC
an outlet
for thoughts feelings
for when you can't think straight,
for when sentences can't form.
an outlet
for flowers to bloom
for tears to fall
for lungs to breathe.
an outlet
for voices unheard
for fingers to type
for brains to process,
for hearts to heal
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 12:35 AM UTC
brainstorming
i sit down on a bus ride home and there’s this idea swirling in my head. i thought to myself,
“this actually sounds right. i should write this idea down.”
i took out my phone and wrote the first few words this idea in my head gave me.
i know I’ve written something. i know i’ll get back to it when i get home. i know there’s more to this idea in my head that will turn this few words into a sentence. to a paragraph. never ending word structures until i see fit.
i know i’ll finish this soon.
i put my phone down and stare outside the window. the view is nice. thousands of cars passing by as the traffic goes smoothly. another idea comes to mind. this time, it’s longer than a few words. it’s a jumble of thoughts. thoughts about cars moving, sound of traffic, the love of movement, and time passing. as these thoughts swirl like storm in my head, i pulled blinds of the window until only a slit of light passes through, a line of moving light flickering, i reach for my phone and open my twitter. i scroll through my timeline until the storm turns to rain, to drizzle, to quiet raindrops and at last, to a calm sunny day. thoughts i wish i’ve written, now long gone thrown in a heavily locked safe inside my head with the password written in a paper inside of it.
i scroll through my timeline again and i came across a poetry slam. as an emotional person, i cry at his words as if it actually was meant for me. as i continue to listen, the sunny empty day inside my head starts to create dark clouds again. it growls and rumbles, spewing lightning bolts down and i quiver. i am afraid. i know it wants to be heard but i try my best to ignore it. thunderclaps. it spoke. it rang my head till it couldn’t be ignored. i gave in.
i wrote. this time with all the words this dark cloud in my head gave me. there was no order. no structure. no idea. just words and pure emotion and i wasn’t stopping.
my fingers became a whirlwind. the storm in my head in sync with my whole body. i tremble. i am the storm. i stormed down the emptiness of a blank note page with thunder of words. rainstorms of emotions. lightning bolts of phrases, of sentences.
as the storm inside my head slowly turns to white, wringing its clouds to drizzle light rain. i add the finishing touches. the storm knows our work is done. it bids goodbye and gives me the calmness of white clouds and sun. i became calm and the bus stops.
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 2:35 AM UTC
Make sense of me
Unwind me
Define me
Don't decline me
See through
Make due
Find me
Don't bind me
Shake me
Don't fake for me
Feel me
Don't kneel for me
Make sure
Take me pure
Don't hesitate
I won't separate
I've come to evolve
Don't let me dissolve
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
Why is it that I hold my breath,
and my heart stops beating?
My skin runs cold, and I wonder,
how much patience do I have left?
Why is it that when I think I've made it,
that I can finally exhale,
I find myself frozen in time?
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
I hate the night and it's untimely creations.
The avalanche of loose words
doused on closed eyes,
begging to be assembled
into flowing images or
melodic alliterated sentences.
Adjectives lurk under sealed eyelids.
Verbs implore the body to respond.
Mocking my stillness they urge
limbs to act out in their name.
Verses arrange and rearrange
of their own accord.
They ebb and flow.
I'm too tired to grab them all.
Why now, when I crave nothing but sleep?
Why can't I conjure this brainstorm
in waking hours.
I grab a pen to write; semi-conscious.
It all jumbles into nonsense.
The dream state draws me back
to act out unconscious intentions.
I hate the night and all its promises;
Its lyrical musings
behind twitching eyelids.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC
Spinning high to Fiction, a7x. the speakers' lack of bass is thin wailing across wood floor over bare feet slapping varnish surface twisitng in maroon boxers and 90's LOVE striped tank, coffee cooling with a pound of sugar next to pretzel rods salty and orange tiger bowl
don't judge the odd hair, i shed like a retreiver
The creature feeds on special spokens, tasting the air for more she realizes the brainstorm has passed her door. Travel the day with luciferin trails as you gleam fairly in the lowlight
shower is needed on this continent as well
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC