I think about Blackholes and I think about You.
How they draw in planets and how I'm drawn to You.

How there's one at the center of this universe
and how my universe all but centers around You.

But they're light years away and so are You.
The universe is dark and the stars are but few.

13 billion years of existence and not a single clue.
The universe's mystery is humbled only by You.

They say Blackholes are born when stars begin to die.
How is something so dark born of something so bright ?

That's what I wonder when I think of Blackholes
and all I can wonder..  
..when I think of You and I.

Your smile creeps off you know,
With no control,
Like you aren't wanting to go,
But there's something unknown,
And with alot of pull,
The voice dismayed with things that haven't happened,
And probably won't,
The slight underwhelming moan,
In a sea of sighs,
You can't try to control,
The glass is normally half full,
But like villains,
only known to the narrator,
Stalks in linens,
And they deploy the daggers,
That don't make any sense,
So you build the fence,
And hope to sleep,
Because when you're up again,
You'll smile at the pen,
know it doesn't make sense,
And that it will happen more,
Just do you're process and apologize,
Saying that there is no control
But realize,
It doesn't matter if it's normal,
It means it will change.

Umi : Is hating everybody really so good ?
I don't understand you, well I don't want to.
But after all, you are still a part of me
Is that not right, my dear Yami ?
You are made of so much hate and spite,
I am sure you already have lost the knowledge of what's right


Yami:  I will make ya regret playing with me
Are you too blinded by your dear kindness to see ?
The fear they have, it makes my body burn up, feel priceless
There is no one to get in my way, you can try all day though...
In the end it is me who protects you from any woe


Umi:  For every kind there is one kindness, one light
It makes no sense to win respect with mere fright
It would be so much better to make them smile
To guide them and make their day worthwhile
After all, we are but only human, bound to nature
And everyone deserves a chance, if not more
To rise up to their righteousness..and soar..


Yami:  Through the darkest of days I have been by your side
No matter how bad it has gotten I was one who was to abide
So who would you like to get rid of ? Yourself? Don't be dull
I am like the wings for your Seagull
You cannot deny that you need me


Umi:  I don't need you at all, you are the reason for my fall
I strive for happiness, so why won't you vanish ?
Being cold and distant is not suiting me, it is not Umi
It is true, we two come in a shade of black and white,
But in the end I believe, the successful one will be light


Yami: If you were simply to get rid of the love in your chest
If you knew what would be the very best
You could finally awaken as me again, tear them apart
I know it is tempting, judging by your broken heart
There is nobody and nothing, sympathize with anger


Umi: I would rather hurt myself till my body is decorated by scars
Than letting you get on top again, turning my dear stars
Into blackholes which only **** everything into a void
This is a fate which I will fight and shall avoid, no matter the cost
Even if it's my own body which is due to this lost


Yami: You would rather commit suicide than causing pathetic creatures grief ?
You are either an proud idiot or just brave
Though you shall know, if you continue this will end in your grave
Would you think it is worth it, to eat up all that pain and release it on yourself ?


Umi: Well, it is fine to cry, it is fine to die
We are all the same, bound to change, noone can be perfect here
Some make it look as such but they too hide their fear,
The tears I shed, the blood I have bled, lead me to this path
With all which I might have left, which is not much I give it to them
To those who need a motherly embrace, warmth and kindness...
Seeing them happy fills my heart with glee
This is why I cannot let you be free

In memoriyam

~ Umi

My art teacher used to say.
“Don’t add the black paint until you’re ready for a finished product”
and I never listened.
So I painted with my black paint
a little too soon,
a little too much,
a little too dark,
a little too passionate,
a little too addicted,
to the night,
I always enjoyed the starry sky.
My art teacher used to say
“Keit, I know that you love her, I see it, you two are my favorite couple”
and I never listened.
So I broke her heart at night
as she gripped her chest
while I did,
as she hid her heart
while I bit,
as she held her tongue
while I kissed,
as she ran from me,
while I chased.
I always enjoyed the lustful parts,
but I miss the gentle parts more.
My art teacher used to say.
“black is dominance,
black is overwhelming,
and black is torture,
but black must be controlled”
but I never listened.
Because it never made much sense, I didn’t make much sense of anything except for her. I tried to make sense out of a human being, my human being. A lover, my lover, and you know what the trust it all about?
People don’t make sense.
Love has no sense of direction.
People are chaotic.
Love is chaos.
People are nature’s kiss,
Love, the lips.
People are timeless.
Love is timed.
She was natural.
I was the ******* disaster.
There is a quote out there that goes,
and you’ll know why people are named after storms, why hurricanes are named after girls and you know what?
She wasn’t any of those things,
I was.
I was the earthquake that
shook her buildings down
and they crashed into her heart;
that explains the cracks.
I was the wildfire that
burnt through her magical forest
and the rabbit lost more time;
that explains Alice in wonderland.
I was the calm eye of the storm that
had one sweet angle and 20 more reasons to **** her over;
my insides said I love you,
but my outsides and I hate you
that explains the obsession,
this hopeless romantic poetry *******.
I was a flood,
and her eyes the land,
her eyes the gates,
her eyes the drowned city.
I was the big bang,
and her soul the many universes
within universes, the many stars
followed by comet showers,
the wishing stars that never came true,
the first time the moon met the sun,
love at first sight, forever separated,
the moon crashing into the sun,
night and dat never being one
until dawn came and twilight clouds
rained her name and my name
was shot across the enos of lightyears
and no one hears my scream in space
except for her an she does care,
but these type of blackholes
**** up everything!
They destroy everything,
a still painting dripping with black paint and I wanted to lover her
and all of this time I thought
that she was the black paint,
but it was me, who was the paint.
And I took all of her light,
a black hope in space
kissing the suns of my theory
one last time,
into the darkness they went
and back to the darkness
that they came from.
And my art teacher used to say
“Don’t add the black paint until you’re ready for the finished product.”
I finally listened.
So I let go of her a few days ago.
I told myself that I needed to stop.
Stop talking to her like she was
the sunset we all adored
and how her eyes meant the world,
and it it meant that she’d wink
butterflies into the pit of my stomach,
I’d die as a self-imploding star.
So I stopped myself from being
more black paint, I crossed out
her face with my own fingers
and kissed her one last time.
My art teacher used to say
“because this black is undoing, you cannot paint over it with white the black is so dense, it’s raw, it’s real it stops all hints of color under it over and over it. Because this is art and art is life, art is poetry and art is love, because art it everything and anything”
So I became the nights she had to sleep alone, so I became the nights I cried to sleep, so I became free from her love and I finally understood my art teacher, I finally understood my ex.
“Black paint is the purest color and lightest of color if used correctly with the right amount of care and tender”
Add a little black with white
and you’ll have grey.
Add a little black with red
and you you’ll have my bleeding heart.
and a little black and blue
and you’ll have her bruised lips.
And a little black with yellow
and you’ll have her eye color.
add a little black to my soul,
and you’ll have lust.
Add a little black to my heart,
and you’ll have her.
And I could swear I head my art teacher say.
“You’ll let go of her one day when you’re ready, you’ll add red aver all of your paintings because they’ll remind you of her lips, it’ll be you favorite color, you’ll ad blue over your roses because red has too much passion, it’s on fire and sometimes we have to appreciate the beauty of weirdness, poetry and art is weird, the best kind, you’ll add pale yellow for her skin tome and you’ll add dark, dark brown near lonely tree trunks because it’ll remind you of her eyes that cried every night because you didn’t know how to love, young kids finding slipped pants unhooked bras more satisfying than adding black paint to solidify a relationship that could’ve been, and you’ll add your last drop, the finishing touch, you’ll be the black paint, and she’ll be the finished product.”
And I finally listened.
I finally listened to art teacher.
So I let you of, baby.
The world is your canvas
and I was the black paint.
His lips your new black paint,
and you, his unfinished product.

you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
because all stars are destined to explode
and the more light you give off
the faster you burn out
i guess this is why they say only the good die young,
i guess i’ll live forever
but immortality sounds lonely and most living legends tie their own nooses,
and the rest of us live just by making excuses
i'd count out all the stars in between us like miles
but you're half way round the world and i'm more than a few days behind
i'd count out all the stars between us, make promises and wishes on them
but i know they’d both be empty
but stars are always dead on arrival
but you’re too far away even if you're right next to me
we were looking at the same stars, just not the same constellations
and i'm so ******* sorry for all the things i let burn out,
all the things i let go ruined instead of dealing with them
i’m afraid of failure so sometimes i don’t try at all
i’m sorry you got the worst parts of me
i’m sorry you got my collisions instead of constellations

you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
because you were afraid of commitment mostly because
you thought you were supposed to be and i said
i love you like a bomb going off too soon
my whole body is on fire,
you ignite me like lighter-fluid and bad decisions
and the best things burn out fast
the shortest lights burn the brightest
it’s science, it’s physics, we can’t fight this
we were doomed from the start, it’s inevitable
that we have to take things apart
somebody told me love is having the perfect opportunity
to hurt somebody and letting it go,
so i guess that’s how i know we’re not in love
because we hurt each other just to prove that the other one
still cared enough for it to sting
because i learned that you’re not real unless you make marks,
so i hope it ******* scars
i hope you can always see the bruises in the shape of my lips
i hope you never forget

you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
i’ve been thinking about whether comets or craters are more important
whether it’s about the way you blaze out or just your ashes
whether it’s about what you do or what you leave behind
i’ve been thinking about why we treat
black holes and supernovas as opposites
when they’re really not that different at all
both catastrophes in their own right, yet one of them seems more poetic
but you don’t get to decide the amount of pain you’ve inflicted,
we are all afflicted with this thinking that we’re the only exception
i think we are all guilty of thinking
we’re supernovas instead of blackholes

you know, i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
i’m a mess and not just metaphorically,
sometimes i kind of think i’d be a lot happier without
all the things that make me myself
i am in a glass jar watching myself implode because
i kind of wish i was born with more serotonin and a different kind of motivation,
like i’m an observer to myself
and i’ve always viewed my own heart breaks
almost as the out-of-body experience, like a third party
investigating the remains of what was or what wasn’t
i am the medical examiner of my heart
and poetry is a lot like dissection
and love is a lot like hate
and living is a lot like dying
but regret is just a waste of emotion and love is just a waste of devotion
and going out with a bang
is much more glamorous than going out with a whimper
and nobody talks about slow burn, only the explosion
if you were a star then you were a shooting one,
and you’re always most popular the day after you die
but i’m done with that ****,
this is not a dead poet’s society
this is a society of poets who wanted to die but didn’t
because i think this might be a sad poem,
but i am not a sad person or at least i've been trying not to be
because we were all born to die, but we were also all born to live
measured by the blaze of our burnout, the trail behind us
i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
i’ve been thinking a lot about comets
i’ve been thinking a lot about comets

For you sweetheart I would....

...writhe in the ecstasy of the tragic
or behave violently,
enmeshed in ******,
heroic havoc

I would stalk the thing that hurt you and stab-it.
or quickly tie it up and drag it,
as I whisper as a crazed maverick ; click, click, son!
and swallow back the drip, drip, umm....
of the vial of acid...….as I sip, sip, yum-
Facing the truth of the mirror I find myself presently hung

For you sweetheart....!
I would sacrifice the self
relegate my identity to the bottom shelf

I would Focus on  opposites...
and pervert the lost truth of buddhists; preaching and installing the sinful cysts...

of consumerism & material wealth, I hope you get the gist.
I would Climb to the monastery & maliciously yell
“Come on you drunk monk Its for your helllth!”

Doing what you always wanted
by changing the state of truth
from overwhelming presence
...to an unseen, veiled stealth

for you I would jump out of the highest helicopter sans parachute
!ha! writing and dying, but for you,  its such a hoot

For you Sweet love,
I would divide by zero,
March up to physics and blackholes say “hey F-yourself” unceremoniously killing the hero
remembering so vividly
how we intoxicatedly emptied oil on the baby-seals relaxing on the soil of the now empty sea shelf

but for you oh dear, I would empty myself of fear
and empathize with a jellyfish
GAH!  
I hate Jellyfish.

Please Imagine sweet- love,
how we would get married,
and go through all the steps to have a sweet- baby
and in the birthing room while you’re extra weary,
I would ask the simple question to hold and carry
this special
special
little baby

I would look you in the eyes, smile widely and drop it
While you pleaded, choked eyes pleading for some God to stop it

But thats a little extreme so lets take time and rewind the scene
So that you wouldn’t think of little ol’ loving ego me as being so especially mean

Then, amidst candles start smoothly & sweeten the deal with cannibalistic clipart
Preparing to Dine on the sweet meal of a sweetheart’s sweet heart.

For you I would
I would **** a man and smoke salvia at his funeral
Then desperately plead my case,  
so surreal while I Appeal deliriously and unable
to the divine
or the courtroom of an esoteric, alien race

Oh love.
I would bury myself in venomous spiders
submit myself to mysterious haitian-zombie rituals
To keep you pure and far from pitiful
I would Self-immolate to distance you from pain and the sinful

Then
I would put the world to sleep
so that they won’t stir, wake,
or open their eyes to peep
the pain of the sun,
burning the Sea-t
of their corneas
with its brilliant and all-encompassing,
luminous heat



Oh for you bella, I would put down three 1/5ths of law and turn the key
Oh beautiful, now the mothers against drunk driving are sooo MADD at me
Because for YOU
I Crashed into their headquarters traveling erratically and so haphazardly

For you I would do everything
not just anything
but
everything.

I would chill with monks that do all the ****** up things
Go to a girls house, burn the family, burn the home
have ******* with the survivor hopefully alone
and afterwards take a long time to gnaw viciously through my bones.

for you I would discuss that maybe this voice Isn’t fit for the world
So i just wink out of existence
to protect everything from my impact, characterized as it is, so spun and twirled

For you sweetheart, I would even let this poem go unwritten.
Just so the world would not be smitten
With the space between the righteous and the wrong
the difference, is what we feel,
For you truth I write this song.

Ostensibly and indefinitely, I would infinitely
remember thee
and it all planning to never do it again.
...because my Circuitry is charged with the pain to amend me.

For your own amusement
I would help possibility incarnate
fulfill itself A-moral and without hate
the good the bad and the ugly because …..remember
When it comes to poetic possibility  
The U-and-I-verse doesn’t discriminate

I would free the slaves from freedom
I would emulate pagans and heathens
I’ll be all you don’t need when you seek to amend the world of men

For you sweetheart I would publish this as a children’s night time book

Blackholes eat oroboroi
for lunch .

Will they eat too much ?

Only time will tell .

apathy, is me     with you,
                               i am
               the oceans,the rivers&lakes,the
        mountains&valleys,the atmosphere
the Earth,Jupiter,Venus,so on,
i am the Milky Way,Andromeda,all
                other galaxies known&unknown,all
                the stars&constellations,the asteroids,
                alien planets&blackholes all curled up in  
                 the fabric of the Universe
          but
nothing specific mind you
my dear
   ...with you

Love is philosophy
safe in its reach
apathy is me, with you
strung-out on the antidote
with you,
the sickness issa comforting creature;
       the aquamarine-moon cradles
       madness like a fetal daydream
—with you
      
love is scientific,
                boring in its dissection
       love is petty
                 in its honesty
apathy,is me.
             with you,i am un
                            being un
                           dulating b/t there
                         & there
           nowhere near here;

apathy, is m e
                 and y o u inna vacuum
        i am? with you—cut
                            me
                       T(in)WO;
apathy,is me, with me and you,
                i am
                body inna fever
                &
                (my) voice dis
                embodied
                inna tomb;
                send your fever meat thru a tube
                kiss&kiss my blistered
                     bliss
          we’re necro
                         philiacs
apathy, is me     with you

I locked my beating heart in a dead man's chest
Finding safety underneath the sands
Fourteen years it remained buried far below
Yet somehow found it's way to your hands


With unconcerned plunges of your careless knife
Don't bother to watch my heart bleed
Soaking the base of the box; red and hot
Yet you merely day dream, walking sleep


I removed my heart from love's reckless hands
But pain; dull, fresh, endless is still felt
It should end now yet the sea i still roam
Trusting now in blackholes i never before dwelt


My unbalanced chest suffers an unliftable burden
As my heart's held 'ransom' by you
Love's cruel trick; i remain Davy Jones
With not even my broken heart, only a ship and crew

glide the sharpened blade
of a sacrificial knife
up and down my wrists
then up to my throbbing throat

so similar this seems
remembering her fingers
glide across my skin
as we became like the Sabbatical goat

neither her nor I
were either inside or out side
we were as Baphomet
and we did float

brush strokes, of our blood
used to paint the figure we were becoming
something worthy of worship
as our nails dug into eachothers sides

Oh, I could feel her ferocity
trying to get inside of me
Oh, though she could only follow me
as I follow her-like the moon and the tides


her soft lip, whispered something to me
up against my warm throbbing neck
as her hips continued to sway like the seas
and she said something to me that put a shake in my knees,

"I love to feel your heart beating
deep within me, like a serpent's in me
now feel mine on your lips
can you feel us?
Can you feel
when our souls kiss?"

I had to hold on tighter to her
as she did to me
as we spiraled away
into certain bliss

our bodies were no more
nothing but ecstasy we became
boom, bloom, eyes like blackholes
and like nubulas, we came

and there we drifted
within what is us






I am not sure if she ever came back down
her presence now is like a winds gust



so I sit here
with this sacrificial knife

teasing my belief
in tangible life

finally, I get a smile from her
as she stands in front of the sun
an so innocently says,
"Ooh, that looks fun"

"It is,
it's better than pictures."

"Even a mirror?"

"Yes, even a mirror"


"How do you do it?"

"Just breathe, and remember."

"But, what if I bleed?"

"All the better, take a sip and remember."













"We were dead, weren't we?"

"Yes, my love, yes indeed."

Of parallel universes,
of Plath’s metaphors,
of Soviet wars and
extistence we abhor

Things she cannot comprehend
not as much as
the words,
and thoughts she lend

Fantasies, realities
blocks
and pieces
are puzzles from different places

Glass and water
are lone,
veracious crystals

Therefore, this girl with
burning curiosity
hair tied,
matching red bow
will come after
rainbows, unicorns
and blackholes

Whilst her head’s buried in books
and mysteries of the undiscovered nooks

Please let me fit inside your paintings
The ones where the telephone wires are
Standing like towers over the burning orchards
Naked lovers wrapping themselves in picnic blankets
Holding white wine.
Make me last.
Let me be a fossil in the dust of your bones
So they can date me back to this ice age
They make fake snow you know

Remember I dented your car that night
Pushed up in metal your tiny
Thighs reflecting our disturbance
You dared

Please let me fit inside your whitewashed molds
Make a cast of my head, fill my eyes with lead
Coat my organs in liquid plastic, make me your favorite piece
A real beauty of a dead man
Display me in the store windows of history
Make vulture that can’t eat me
Make worms that can’t get to me
Make me famous.

We dug holes in the night
The earthen wombs trying to hide
Our dead futures. Make these tombs
Swallow faster. We dug holes in the light like blackholes
In the blackblue.
Make me antimatter
Make me matter.

Let’s climb up the bed and adjust the fluff
Let’s just sleep because being awake is so tough
Let’s shut the blinds and draw the curtains
Let’s be comforted by the mild darkness so certain
Let’s close the windows and shut the doors
Let’s be embraced by those welcoming blackholes
Let’s leave everyone else out just you and me
Because all I really want is some privacy.

She is made up of unwritten poems, and unsent letters.

Silence was her confidant although her heart was screaming and her thoughts were tempests.
Thunder was music to her hears; and the strong gushing winds lulled her to sleep.
Unconquerable; afraid to be vulnerable.
She is made up of layers of high walls and unraveled facades.

She carries pain like a paper-back book and knew tragedy like home.
She's loquacious but her silence means more than the words she ever said;
Feeling everything and saying nothing;
Saying nothing and meaning everything.

She saw more sunsets than sunrise;
but sees sunshine in both just the same.

She held roses by its thorns and saw stars die as blackholes;
but still carries a light like a supernova that outshines the entire galaxy

in a city of shifting faces
we become forgetful about life in different places
succumbed to a world within a world.
construction and history
poverty and misogyny;
the city is lost within me and i am lost within the city

we all suffer the internal blackholes of everyday life

in a city of anonymous faces,
we take no notice
succumbed to a world within a world where only our world matters
and we wonder what's for lunch whilst thousands live homeless and the irony of wondering why so many go hungry
in a city of greed

consumers consumed by consumerist propaganda

all the shifting faces we walk past on a daily basis
bigots, fascists, racists
and we are wrapped up
too engulfed by our own lives to care about others
but selflessness is only selfless if not done for self, but i was told
"no good deed goes unpunished"
but we should do good anyway
because in a city of shifting faces
be the face-shifter who stops turning pages and pauses --
take in the scenery
and be alive for every moment;
it is okay to be a passer-by in a city of nameless strangers
but never in your own life

Puzzled are my oceans
As to how Phobos fills them  like cold rains
While submerged in your galaxies'
Wine well-stored among memories.

They are weary troubled how,
Daunted to even gaze at them now.
For doubt sprung from fragments
Of galaxies' reined luster, now torments.

On what their distant lights state
I faithfully patterned my fate,
As if what to happen they have said,
But why do they seem misread.

Does a thousand light years it take
To reach me and have me awake?
Is it just  the supernova of the past
That still holds my trust?

For what really lies there unknown
Are blackholes of stars too late shone.
Ascribing me to circling swarm-
Sapping sanity to my harm.

Tell me you are no blackhole
For I'm no barren ocean you'll fall.
We are both lost in tidal capture
But groping to gain rapture.

I know my oceans set you adrift
But forbid you any dip.
Well, I'm afloat in your galaxies
That don't elevate queries.

Prostrate me by resonant shining,
Break latent conquest we're in.
You'll see their reflected glitter
As I submit to your luster.

"monogamy or whatever you call it- i'm starting to think it ain't for everybody."*

with our hearts locked up in a far away land,
alas! we open our legs and our mouths.
not to the gifted and the loved,
but the exotic and peculiar.

lost in translation,
we believe that we become whole through experience.
in the back of our mind knowing,
we are more lost than ever.

inch by inch,
as we gnaw at genitalia,
to 'satisfy' our pangs.
we continually tear,
bits and pieces of our hearts,
pushing them into various blackholes,
in the abyss we call our mind.

in various beds, floors, couches, showers,
we bare our bodies naked.
in ritual,
we search for love and our hearts,
not realizing that it's at arms length.

STOP TRYING TO FIT PEOPLE INTO BOXES OUR ATOMS LOOK LIKE TINY UNIVERSES FOR A REASON WE ARE CONSTANTLY GROWING WE WILL DEVOUR YOUR IDEALS OF WHAT WE SHOULD BE LIKE BLACKHOLES SWALLOW LIGHT AND AND SPIT YOU OUT INTO INFINITE NOTHINGNESS

inkblots
are blackholes

warp to another dimension
an abyss
stare at it long enough
and they come right at
you

a starless night
where the sky
is your canvas

the power of
your imagination
turns ink and paper
to any possibility
you wish it to be

rip through reality
through time and


s p a c e

i’ve heard that black holes eat stars for snacks
i wonder if black holes can die
as insignificantly as a fly who sat on my arm
or a butterfly who splat against my windshield
alive one second and gone to some other place the next
maybe gone to nowhere
where do black holes go when they die
where have my old eyes gone to
where are you
and do you ever think about
what happens to the stars that blackholes swallow
like the tongue i swallow into my throat
when i’m kissing someone i don’t want to
do you ever wonder
where a black hole goes to when it’s gone

As I gaze up at the sky,
I have a strange sense of deja vu.
I look beyond the moon,
and on my breath,
my soul lifts to stars
light years from here.
To cosmic worlds
of planets and galaxies.
Where blackholes breach
the edge of space and time.
Where asteroids as large as planets
travel through the Milky Way.
Occasionally,
colliding,
leaving clouds of
interstellar dust behind
in their wake.
I breathe in,
then out,
and my soul returns
on an even breath,
leaving me with just
a brief taste
of the world
from which I came.

every time i see you, i feel as if i can take on the whole world.
you make my insides burst with the flitters of butterflies
and you make my smile touch the edge of space and
my laugh bubbles in the entirety of the air
surrounding us.

because of you, i feel hope rise in my chest.
you're like a whole new universe that i get to explore.
my fingertips caress the blackholes and supernovas you possess
and your eyes are a new experience in themselves,
like wormholes ready to take you to a far-away galaxy
every single time you look into them.

your hands are foreigners to my body.
they know not were to start or to end,
but they still are.
they know what to do as if they were programmed to
feel the vibrations on the soft skin of my back and
the tenderness i have everywhere around.

you could give me a million new words
and i'd spend countless hours trying to decipher them
with this newfound knowledge that you have given me.
how much do you know in that beautiful mind of yours?
how many brain cells do you possess,
you beautiful, intangible being?

your words keep me strong,
they keep me alive.
my heart beats stronger because of you, too.
every single fiber of my being feels stronger and healthier
and more in love with every cell that i possess.
because of you, i feel more alive than i ever have.

your touch is still so soft even with your resilient hands.
your eyes are like the eighth wonder of the world.
they soften my heart with the dips i take into their deep blue
oceans and the sea-foam green splashing inside of them.
and your lips could speak a thousand incoherent words and
i'd still smile because they were coming from your beautiful mouth.

because of you, i am falling in love with myself.
i'm not sure that i've ever done that before.
but i know this feeling inside of my chest and
while i am infatuated with you,
i am falling in love with me.
and that's more than i could ever hope for.

so thank you, my dear, for being this unknown universe that i
get to explore and for being someone who can help me
fall in love with myself.

my mouth has been filled with a flood;
the waters are tainted with the acid of the world.

it wears my teeth down into
pearled-knives,
and they cut the insides of my cheeks -
mixing in
bad blood with
a devilish pollution.

i cannot release a cry.
i cannot stomach the feeling.
i cannot ***** the sickness.

i've been sleepwalking into blackholes,
turning cartwheels by oblivion
with a hell
stuck between my lips.

i've been swallowed from the inside out -
flashing in and out of life
with the firestorm of
sirens.

the reds and blues scream in unison
for a world greater than you and i.

Each word was heavier then the next

Punctuations were blackholes

Trapping solars through the text

Translations read "I am not afraid of death"

I am however petrified of a timeline

Terrified of an algorithm trying to define the textures of my rhymes

And the tendencies of the contingencies that disorientate the frequencies of the bell chimes

Pitches that were left to malnourish in these chambers

In the same crucible that replaced its rudimentary nature

With walls of foam that absorb the most infinitesimal of vibrations

Along with windows with shades that annihilate rays of the most miniscule of molecules of the nights constellations

I continue mediating

Eternally Waiting

Forever Creating

Until I hear a voice

It slices through the vapors

Telling me to trek and claim terrain

To march to a candice on clay

Even though grass was my choice

Now Im Forced to grow the green In my psyches Elysian fields  

Because as a man dress in all orange  

The color of Freedom will always systematically appeal

Faceless reapers come to visit dressed in business suits for a deal

A contract drawn in blood to harvest my crops for their sacrificial meals

I signed knowing whats to come

And at the time I wished to leave with the skeletons

Hold their robes of night

Dance my digits along their scythe

Because I see the beauty in every one of them

And I would too

That's the purest of truths

If I only knew the right numbers to dial

But I have no clue

So I'll dance in limbo for awhile

Until Deja vu

Because I was promised as a child

That they'll give me a call when its my time

I just hope thats true

the hamper’s starting to spill, week-old clothes pooling on the floor. the sink’s in need of getting drained, rotten food debris floating in mucky dishwater. dried leaves await to be picked out from the plants by the kitchen window. parcels are left unopened by the porch. notifications simultaneously ping as i turn on my phone, urgent messages left unreplied.

the room’s ever bathed in the dark, light unable to filter through as twilight starts, time i’d remain unaware of had my alarm not gone off. i’ve gotten by with chips for three days now, the 1L soda bottle nearly empty. a week ago i was supposed to start working on a project due two days from now i’ve gotten so far as mapping out a concept but i’m still looking for the will to tick off step one;
the will to get up, make the bed, put on clothes that aren’t rumpled or three-day-old like these jeans that i still have on.

i try to give myself another one of my “TEDtalks”, a rundown analyzation of things to go through how i’ve arrived to this colossally sinking feeling. but all that my mouth can coherently gather are year-long sighs. the teddybears propped by the corner of my bed, their black beaded eyes seem to hold more life, their stitched smiles actually formed with meaning. my blanket rests by the corner all wrinkled but here i am, sharing one with the dull melancholy dwelling in each heartbeat, babying it. i should brush it off but it clings, like the remnants of stickers you’ve placed on your first ever guitar that remains up to this day.

three days ago i was doing fine, not duly elated like a holiday’s thrill but i was able to joke around, go out, fulfill plans, cope with what the day throws, go home, satisfyingly crack my knuckles at the end of the night. now all the plans have stopped being sublime, “what’s even the point?” the only thing i can offer when they make themselves known.

this isn’t new, sliding in its way effortlessly into routine from time to time but each time it occurs i still get stupefied. like a sailor going down a shipwreck’s trail yet all i do is fling my lifevest off the faraway shore. like trying to find the lightswitch in my bedroom even when there are no lightbulbs installed. like some modus operandi where they hypnotise you and i find myself caught in a trance unable to break free even though i’m well aware of that sort of scheme firsthand.

i catch myself staring at the blackholes growing out from fissures in the walls. it turns into a staring contest dragging on for i don’t know, hours. i don’t know how long truly as clock work becomes fast-paced, mechanical, submerged in space.

alas, the aftermath dawns on in the early hours, ensuing the breakage of a curse years’-worth; i step out, unused to the halo of light. dewdrops form on orchid trees as the city fervently sleeps. the fog has miraculously lifted. relief follows through.