when day breaks and brazen stands the sun
as if to say, it is day, the storm has passed
once more
you lay in a pool of soft sand, a whisper of what once was
fists clenching and unclenching
silence so deafening you ache
it feels so unpleasant, this ease
comfort was not meant for you, where do you even place yourself in a scene meant for someone else?
you make suffering your home
the cold tiles a cornerstone
but the suffering has ended in spite of you
of all your pleas to stay in a race for survival
trotting on battered rubble-bound roads
and despite it all
you are safe and free
the sun lapses in providing warmth
but never stills
and neither have you
before now

and yet
happiness does not creep in, nor does it knock
nor barges or in wanders
you are left empty in a filled space
almost to the point of combustion
and this is how you shall stay
shivering, the rays hurling themselves at any surface besides you
fruitless, the suffering meant so very little besides all that you knew
empty, just as the space next to you

one mistake and falling goes the unabashedly tender, naively claimed the empresses land home, forgetful perhaps of what lengths it must go to earn its keep
With one slip of the tongue, knives were drawn
affection squashed
All traces of tenderness lost in a once softened gaze
(so fully, one swears it must not be the same eyes)
hardens, exposing a once tentatively stitched creature to the world's capacity for cruelty
To loneliness so great, to the knowledge that all one has, truly
When all niceties are stripped
(Or have fallen.. due to an irrational presumption of one’s right to practice autonomy)
Is one’s self
there is great disappointment that lies in arriving at the bottom of the barrel only to see a puddle
Or rather, droplets barely conjoined
mirroring eyes engulfed in terror
darting back and to,
the only soul, hell-bent on your survival
Is your own

atop a hill of splendor
with little in the way of hope
equal parts enthralled.. and worn
dismay coats the outside of my armor, callous with plight
Saturn my center
the moon my companion, beyond the dark knight
the haze of exhaustion weighs heavy on the soul
of the warrior of penance, the grief-stricken mourn
beyond the shell that has molded to skin
is a man-made of clay, held up by kin
what rattles in the uninhibited layers of one's caverns
the darkest mellows of the evening halted by unspeakable thought..
perhaps the soul deserves kindness
when the soul finds solace not in yellow sunrises and blue ocean shores
but in catastrophic endings, where podiums are flattened against the earths erupting core
with destruction comes peace, the absence of life a prerequisite to birth
I am man in his purest form
earnest in pursuit, lacking in judgment
no less in youth
and as youth leaves me, so does the empathy it affords me
when my wayward path meets that of those who have strayed
beyond the anticlimactic nature of the roads that lead to Rome
beyond Caesar
empty conquests
hollow plots of land masquerading as homes
no amount of marble will make you a home
and no amount of marching will bring me closer to mine
I have found a home in an unlikely scene
in a planet so wholly unruly in its pursuit of discipline
absolute devotion to he who has revived my fervor, what is devotion next to happiness previously alien to my desolate soul
the 82 moons orbiting you cannot offer what I plan to
I offer my soul, and all that I am
for promise of a home far from this land
for peace previously unknown to me
for joy beyond comprehension of man

there is so much to look forward to, now that you are here
so many fantasies bashfully pushed aside to make way for more noble pursuits
now lay on my bedside, eyeing my half-lided eyes and lopsided grin

a whirlwind marked with ease
a typhoon where sweetness blooms
the softest callous hands
you are a story all on your own
breathtakingly agile in all you touch
any one thing, or creature
loved enough by the heavens to be marked by your looming presence
is tethered to you by an unseen force
I do not know what fortunes I have bestowed on others, what good will or extended palm could have made me worthy of the soul encompassing passion
all the same
I am one of 82
incandescently enamored with you

and I would look and look, for poems that might begin to etch away at my armor, exposing me to your loving gaze
but so little was found, I take it upon myself
to write you a poem
of yearning in its simplest form
for a love so present in every moment I hesitate to be anything but yours

The warmest haze
in wanting you I am set ablaze anew
you wreak havoc on all my delicate parts
the thud of a heart prone to unease
softly mellows as our eyes meet
I lose an ounce of myself
but oh the gain, oh the wells and rivers of bliss
oh the mountains of unadulterated joy
sparking through my chest
its always been, always has been
yours

my life began at 23,

I was used to parting seas
nail and tooth, knuckles bruised
a battle of wills, mine was fraught with distrust
all that I need, my one and only muse
brought my tattered soul to the fountain of youth
emotions I cannot speak of without wells of tears streaming down my face
made the pits I disdain my home
the comfort of familiarity brushing away remnants of passion
and it is often when you become accustomed to pain that life acquaints you with joy
my joy, the force that shakes me and grounds me
all that I am, and ever will be is someone made for loving you
my life began, the day our eyes met
the day words were exchanged
loving glances
softly hidden smiles
knowing chuckles
the day the world ceased to turn, for as long as our kiss lasted
all I was before you was shattered, I am utterly yours
devoted to the loving cause of loving you
my life began at 23, when the universe brought you to me
my life began the day our hands met and our smiles merged
the day we became one
the day the world began
was when I was brought to you

I must be the most loved creature in the world
not by quantity of lovers do I measure
how the heavens have surrendered their earthly pleasures
made of love, for love, to love and be loved
I am defined solely by my quest
to bestow tenderness in the most unlikely of places
where cracks do not meet and gravel ceases to turn
where emptiness is heard and terror burns

I am loved beyond all the hate that festers beneath the shell of my home
beneath the ashes and the unborn
I loved through failed conquests and overturned thrones
beyond all that has been and will be
this single moment of love lives on
immortalizing us as the single purest moment
a meeting of souls
I am loved and will love
till the day I am mourned

I often wonder what would the world look like without me
the ego of man, brazen and bold
what keeps you awake, when others lay
unconsciously
physically opaque
tragically present
ringing echoes of words layed with ink
never having seen the light of the splendid sun
we plot and plot and plot
for naught
we are but a child, collectively
a singular child
one hell-bent on destruction
not seeing beyond the splinter of light
allowed through a cracked door
and the world looks on
with equal parts amusement and concern
our significance is insignificant
both tangible and fraught with the tragedy of being
of the lack of being
of managing what cocktail of emotions we are to be ****** into
when loss knocks on the door

I sometimes wonder if any words I say in whatever order could ever encapsulate the depths of my emotions.
I wonder if you’re aware of what you have gotten yourself into.
If every moment,every rug pulled from underneath me, all of it was to turn me into someone you could love.
I worry you do not understand what love looks like to me.
Then every worry is squished the moment you speak.
I love you does not do the emotions justice. It does not do you justice.
You are the truest emotion I’ve ever felt.
You anchor my fleeting thoughts and wandering mind. Light me ablaze and calm the storm.
My soul recognizes your own.
There simply isn't anyone else that will do, it always was and always will be you.

the leaves shushed each other on the day we met
and although I was held together by a string which I did not acquire on my own
I vowed to always listen
and so I did
sweet mother envoked a stillness within me
of knowing all shall be well
should I surrender
knowing my rowing does very little to persuade such stubborn winds
I release
truthfully, I do not know if things will end well
or if worlds should collide this time tomorrow
but in both instances I have rid myself of a burden I have shouldered in vain
so in good conscience, I am still
for the first time in a long time
perfectly still

what becomes of us when the sounds of wailing fade ever so slightly into the back of the picture frame
we no longer remember days by infectious
laughter or shy smiles
these are the days
death tolls become us
flesh becomes a number
lulled into obedience
humming rhythmically
fear plagues our moments of sobriety
and then some
and here we stand
hollow
and afraid
and what else?

steady and faulty we win the race
I have known few men who won with grace
I see glimpses of myself in every failure
and reflections of regret in every triumph.
I so wish the human experience was less nuanced than it is
if things happened just so
and people remained as they are
waiting for you to flip the page.
what oyster knives lay flat against cold tiles of realization
and why does the world not mourn half artists who favored the race over grace.

we are abandoned
left with sticks made out of pens
and stones that look like paper
we are whole
and utterly broken
we mend our bones with stones
forget about paper

we learn what it means to be incomplete
what flame does to paper
that bones mend, and pens love the company of paper

we rush to collect our inked paper
these blessings stitched, our children will learn by means of our strife, not theirs

we wake up slightly less broken
even so, we write
and when ink runs dry
we write with tears
then with blood
we break our bones for pens
and tear our clothes for paper

the history we live
the labor of our youth
it will be written by us
not you

I have come to the conclusion that we were never meant to be
that is not a product of our circumstances
rather, our dispositions
and how you falter
and I do not
and when faced with adversity, our tactics differ
you the setting sun
trailing behind you washes of color
a soft whisper of a reminder
that you passed through
you liked it that way
how amusing is it then that I am enamoured with you and the setting sun equally
some days the sun is better to me
and those days I resent you
I am ill equipped
and you are well versed in all the ways lovers dance
I am an arrow to a target  
you question the need for arrows
my setting sun
I will love you till you set no more
till the arrow makes more sense to you
till you try to shoot yours, perhaps
I am all together too aware of the fact
that you are surrounded by targets
and I am not one
and all written words do is attempt to bring me closer to you
to understanding what we've created of ourselves
I shall try to stop hurling my arrow at the splendid sun once it stops kissing my skin

It is so achingly easy to believe that loving you was always meant for me, always meant to hold candles to wet paint,
hear the clock tick in my chest.
I anticipate your arrival before I've known your name,
tuck away all the affection I thought I had lost.
It is maddening
and utterly blissful
I love you
your words have floated in my chest
aimlessly
and when we met
I sung your name recklessly, unknowing of the grave mistake I've committed
you engulf me
body and soul
and I fear all that will be left in your wake is an oath, a plea, never part with me
unaware of my grievance, I roam
and unaware
that you were the beloved I've waited for
that the sky looked different that day, for you
everything crisp.
I was prepared to love you
from that day on
till the day I am mourned.

i was given very little
in the way of struggle i am well versed
i resist the restless urge to assist
knowing assistances means very little when offered by the battered
and does the thought truly count as any
when calculated by those who find utterance a task for the brave
I envy you
envy being all I was offered
when asked what is to be done to a world so cruel as to abandon the hungry
and let the dead and the not yet dead roam
aimlessly
I fear
it is my fate
to turn into those I envy least

it is of common knowledge
that farewells are part of the battle
and we are merely casualties
at the sidelines of the war
we glance at our mothers
waving their tear stained white handkerchiefs
and we try to seem whole
as we are rushed away
in trains crowded with judgment
the screech a relief to absent mind ears
so begins the journey
and ends the plight
the heart grows fonder
once the beloved is no longer in sight
and perhaps once one is lightyears away
we can begin to heal
wounds we've stitched with contempt and dismay
hurt weaved into the foundation of us
we are what we make of this
one can accept the bitterness
or shatter the glass separating them from themselves
and start anew
on green grass and clear blue skies
we promise ourselves and the world who fed us and clothed our backs
that we will make use of this time
this hurt will mean something
rebuild what once was
goodbye

perhaps the only constant of human affairs,
sting,
relief,
the corpse cold limbs.


you adjust yourself


I will not be made to relive the shell shock

a moment, suspended

a reminder

we are all visitors
one mustn't get too comfortable
fate playfully, sternly reminding us
that is just what we are
                                         passers by,
so is everyone we cherish

fleeting phantoms carrying a suitcase
with remnants of the us they knew
we try to ****** it away
convince them they have no right to any part of us.


it is so haunting
the reminder
that the damage is done
overstayed visits come with the hefty cost of learning to accept what we cannot change
and the time has come
to migrate north?
to flee the scene?


if only
those who have bulleted their goodbyes
could learn
to never go back to the scene of the crime.

its truly remarkable,
the faded stains that stare right through me
the tip of your blade lodged between my ribs
daring me to move
and somehow, I do
and in time, I forget
how it felt before your blade
and
no memory lingers
of the moment metal struck flesh
the ache, it lulls me to sleep
and cradles my rung out fleet
my shrine, beloved sanctuary of the ******
and when I am put to eternal sleep
lay that wonder blade beside me
no longer
will I struggle or squirm beneath its weight
we are now equal
it is fate

its warm, the softest haze
and i find myself thinking
this isnt how its supposed to be
i'm to be on an empty dock
at dawn
wet wind slapping me in the face
just as the truth sets in
that all things must come to an end
and it is the most magnificent things
that never stay
and i would watch you sail away
and i wouldn't cry
because i've been told to save my tears
never let good suffering go to waste
dip my feather in velvet tears for when long nights strech and my paper is as empty as my chest

but

here i am
its comfortably warm and the sun embraces all of our flesh
as if i am its most beloved green
and it so unfair
for the world to turn its back on me
how am i to be miserable
with so much peace surrounding me?
i will find my dock
i will find a way to make use of this
my tears mean something

it is the birthday of a dead man
the day the world began
the end of all that has ever been and all that ever will be
and it is during this time of year that i am reminded of a minuscule speck
a mountain of joy, an avalanche of the heart
of emotions I dare not speak 
of words too intricate to attempt to explore
i swing my heart by a tethered rope
with the hope that when it falls flat against the cold tiles of realization 
it will mend itself with knowledge that all things mend
and i have felt
as minuscule as a speck
and as grand and loved as a mountain 
and i remember my beloved oak tree 
extending its branches far beyond my reach
beyond the horizon 
beyond me
and with eyes twinkling with wonder 
i ask my beloved oak tree
will you please stay with me?
he smiles knowingly
there are words he does not speak
and when i ask
he shelters me
he urges me to ask for whatever answers my heart desires 
and when he speaks 
i am all wonder as i hear words like i've never heard before and letters said with a command beyond that of a general 
and that is how we spend our days
i am all the oak tree wished for
i marvel at everything it has seen 
i am so happy he is my oak tree
and there might be emptiness where it stood
but I will always make room for it next to me

when we come into being
we are given very few Instructions
we are given a name, a faith a blade
but never told how it is we need to fend for our souls
to the eternal quest of finding a surface 
that reflects you faithfully 
that echoes the truths of our state
is all there is to being, to prove that we do?
is it with the hope that we might make another's existence that much more tolerable? 
is life supposed to be tolerated?
is there power in escape? 
to take your pen
write the words you've found in your soul
share your precious gilded letters 
with the world
and hope they kind find solace
in like-minded blood-soaked letters
perhaps I will serve as a cautionary tale
and perhaps that is enough
perhaps wanting more than what is offered
is a sin in and of itself? 
but perhaps the world would not have come into being without the sinners
those who dare to ask for more
to take

we dare not speak
for thoughts are forbidden 
in the ashes of what was once our beloved kingdom we stand 
unrecognizable 
we sleep cradling what little is left of our printed word
i hold it faithfully to my chest
i owe all that i am to you
thoughts float, suspended in midair
waiting for those of us with nets to catch them 
softly place them on loving pearly white mattresses 
comfortable? you'll outlive man’s time
beyond the falling of allies
beyond the dying of the sun
beyond us
beyond them
beyond wars, salvation and greed
you clench all that we are
in a single fist
as if the bane of human existence 
exists
in a book

two faces of a coin
two siblings of the heart
passion ignites both
but hurt is left in the wake of one
we forget that our hearts are not coins
the world is not so
it is a blessing and a curse
the things we feel
we do so with such conviction
and human emotion is filled with contradictions
and nothing but a hair separates love and hate
all the evidence you need can be found in a dagger in the back of caesar the great
in the burning of cathedrals, empires and states
but hate is not poison
it does not rot your soul
it is not love
it does not ebb and flow
it retires to the hidden chambers in between your ribs
you slam the door and throw the key

i wish i could have given you fully what you partially bestowed upon me

have I felt the consequences of you
for so long
that it became the only truth I accept
I love you
fact
you are unaware
fact
we are both broken pieces looking for a home
fact
but these facts change very little
in that your heart does not long for mine
my words do not carve holes in your chest
your hands rose splintered not
and I do not know how to exist outside of you

i must remind myself
that people don't own places
no matter how much they feel like home
and that piece of grass
that feels like my mothers embrace
is just a mirror
i've buried my hope inside a vault
said a prayer
closed my eyes and said goodbye
shushing grasshoppers along the way
all that can be heared are my muffled sobs
and the echos of halfhearted steps
dragging metal across green damp strands of the earths scalp
i reassure myself that this is the way it has to be
the pungent smell of death and decay
the earth engulfs all our sorrows
embraces our dead
harbors our wars
and we too will pass
another disease the earth must rid itself from
and all that will be left
is a few bones clattering together for warmth
and a woman
whose gaze
follows you wherever you go

son of man
glimmer of hope
in Plato's cave
or my throat
mend metal
tear apart homes
the unexpected visitor of Rome
you arrive when summoned
but often overstay
some might say
you are superior to clay

it's widely accepted that one gains visibility in exchange for their earthly flesh
and often I wonder
am I ready for that trade

graciously
you allow me to stay
I thank the walls, the halls and corridors
for sheltering my most beloved
what thanks do I have to offer
to repay such great a debt
do I kiss the feather?
do I hug tiles that have hugged your figure many, many nights?
it smells of you
but feels nothing like you
why won't you hold me back?
must I take the shape of tiles?
then tiles I will be

years apart and here we are
breaking jigsaw pieces
in time they'll fit, the sun will burn its ridges, then the rain, timidly at first
puts out the flames and all at once
it pours
just as I have done
break apart and put yourself together all you want
this puzzle is missing
no peace

the day i was born
i was given a knife
slice open letters if you like
the day i was born
the moon sighed
and the world did not stand still
barely moved
and i was an infant with a knife
i carried all my life
and on days where i am less content with my life
i feel a prickly jab on my sides
remember
you have a knife

I am the motions and you the stops
you are to me what life is to mars
there are ladders to climb
and your heart is up there
I'll climb every step
and conquer the void
will that be enough?

what words ring in my ear when its half past midnight
between the lands of the torn apart and the torn open
realize the shallow pond I've been drowned in looks a little like where we first exchanged our crooked letters
do you feel an inkling peaking at you through the window pane
did it tell you to run
did it speak to the smallest voice in your chest
will you run?

souvenirs kept
from conversations
from a passerby
from imagined getaways
every last detail engraved in a booklet tucked at the corner of my heart
and still
I am asked
why do I hold on with the grip of a dying man to the simplest of things
because I know all too well
how it feels
to be left behind

O tattered heart that hangs on the thread of my sleeve
he's left us hanging for the last time
tomorrows sun will burn the corners of his room
swiftly make its way to my former lovers face
burn the treachery
if possible  
soothe the ache
and I shall wait
and wait
for the day he wakes
and I am the burning sun
no longer there
no longer the wall he braces himself on
no longer trying to fix
what never was broken

my heart a permanent residence for the thoughts you occupy
its as simple as words said with such deliberation I thought it must be love
and perhaps these are merely illusions
and you are never to be mine
ever the falcon looming over the canyon where I reside
now and then I shall look up to see you soaring  
eyes filled with equal parts sadness
and pride
for it is such luck to have found something so wonderfully painful
and real

if by chance I succumb to the rotting in my soul
perhaps think of me as a child
the only time I was not running away from myself  
I was enough and whole and days were never long enough
I was a cloud and the sun was my first love
bleeding yellow into my fuzzy outlines
excitement painted my world so often it was the only color I knew
memorized the beat of my own heart
took it upon myself to do right by me
but people came between me and myself
and things have never been the same

he doesn't say good morning at the crack of dawn
barely even manages to look me in the eye
and when I pass, he doesn't look up with bedazzled eyes
and although words fail him and days stretch where he is absent and I am a wreck
there are moments where I am convinced
that he is the moon
and I was always meant be his star
far enough not to be a nuisance
but close enough to admire all the ways he is
my last bit of hope
is strung around his neck
and i fear if the world ends tomorrow
he'd leave me on the deck

all the words that come to mind
all the letters and the notes
they're relics of something I've stored in the glove departments of my mind
they're metaphysical proof of you
a shining moment in a lifetime of gloom
I do not miss you anymore
I ache
it comes at random times
the way you'd say words would plague my day
I'd think of the faces you'd make, deep in thought
I hide my private smile
they do not deserve to see what's meant for you
words fail
every so often
to capture feelings
never mind people
I'm sure there are multitudes of you, that I did not meet
a coin after my heart
and I never have to wonder what love feels like
because of you

its always seemed daunting
the prospect of forever
a suspension of time
i hoped for so many forevers
but all i was offered was a forever naught
a forever wandering
a forever walking along a path where I was unable to look up
hoping I'd end up home somehow
will the sun end this cold journey?
will the path end with it ending my misery?
will the forever I've yearned for
ever come?
and will my forever last
for forever

who do you think of? when you're half between the living and the dead? when you can smell the heavens opening their gates? when everything we know suspends? does it ever end? do they ever feel loved? will this ever pay off? are these the wonderings of a mad man? one truth: i love him

my best friend has many tells
when he loves something he cries
when he's sad he laughs
when he's lonely he forgets to call


sometimes

the tides would pull him under
too focused on survival to see me
on shore
praying for his safe return
I love you
I yell
he sinks

meet yourself tonight
rediscover all the ways you are
perhaps extend all that love to your own
soul
theres beauty in opposites
your beauty lies where there is discomfort
face it

O sweet melodies
bring back the spirit that once belonged to me
is life merely the feeling of electric currents pulsing through a corpse-like host
or is it giving what you do not own?

you stand at the doorway of my heart
far enough for me to long for you
close enough to make my crying unjustifiable
and you knew what you were doing
everything was just so
you were not mine
but I was yours

cold tears
oh my wretched heart with wretched blood and wretched strings
pumps me full of poisonous grief
leave
they all do
theres no shame in it
i loved you
you know?
remember that
when my tears mingle with blood and my heart pumps no more
please
shut the door

never did i expect to love so fully one who thinks so little of me
i dreamt of love so fire filled it scorches those who dare come near
but here i am
scorched
and here you are
unrelenting
it seems that any attempt in trying to conquer my passion only results in greater despair
and your greater indifference
unfair as it seems
you own all of my affection
and are the subject of all of my dreams