"clinomania" poems
I'm inhaling
In a constant state of clinomania
I become a pendulum as she's away
Cigarettes when I couldn't sleep
And other times to estivate
Harrowing and haunting journey back
Through all these darkened waves
Your many colors could light up the room
I'll lay awake and I'll dream of yesterday
I'm exhaling
Anonymous hiding from the populous
Angered by incompetence
A life of acclivity, means a life of vacivity
The black monstrous are not unique
Every week, felt like driving
Into the trees
So long
To bare
To grasp
Thin air
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
Oh, Dear, tell me
how to shut my brain
from boiling of anger?
or muffled the cries
from my heart out of
pains and memories of him?
please tell me the place
where he's not there
cause obviously
falling asleep is not working
and waking up is even worse
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 4:14 AM UTC
Hiding under heavy lids
And sleepy heads
You could not bring yourself
To leave your bed
So you tuck up the covers
And snuggle with a pillow
You don't care about that fly who hovers the window
"Oh,"
You think,
"This time is as rare as a four leaf clover"
Still air
The fly has stopped whirring
The room cascaded in calm, light blue
You aren't cranky
You don't feel sick
The bed just won't let go
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
trust me
i don't want to be this way
what addict does?
flashback
ages 4 through 13
i spent at least an hour
each night
staring into the dark
wishing it were in my head
here I am now
busy
exciting life
stressful
but filled with activity
exhaustion
it's an escape from
family
friends
responsibility
where my thoughts can drift
lazily through my mind
euphoria
it's relaxation
my body still
at total peace
nothing but breathing
i'm trying to run
but at all the wrong times
and i'm not staying at the right ones
it's destroying me
i know that this all my own fault
because i'm still letting it
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
Rejected, if not misunderstood,
these girls do me no good,
in groups in pairs, no one cares,
they're pretty, that's enough.
Relatively speaking, the floors
are squeaking in this house of
lies. She stands so close to me,
she's looking, I cannot respond
She seemed not very fond of
who I was and what I said, but
signals are mixed and misinterpreted
by both, or not, it is the fact not knowing
that ruins this situation, overshadowing.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
My heart is a calamity containing calidity
I condone my situation because of what I view as justification... validity
I commence in feeding an ego that soon will be too immense for my own body
To lobby for draining more of who I was to satisfy a condition that should cease in existence...
(Who I am)
Has no point.
It's chronic to my health and as I continue to comment
I wish a cosmic allotment would hit me
I close my eyes and fade
Hoping to capture my reveries, but instead
I capitulate to the reality bleeding through my eyes
My insides dwell under a crimson sunset sky
How can the sun dare to shine on a place frozen over?
Ineffable and sublime
I attempt to open my eyes
Stopped by my bride, clinomania
She lies next to me in bed
I'd try to get out, but the only thing left is my head
Even then the dessert sand interior never fails to blow right through my hands
Binding my bones
Paralyzing my stance
I might be on Mars
That was never the plan
Yet, here I stand
Tongue in hand
Heart full of blood
Why is nothing ever enough?
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 11:24 PM UTC
woke up to the bitterness in my mouth again
stuck on my throat
so i thought i’d get rid of it
for you.
woke up to the bitterness in my mouth again
i am still telling myself
putting this in words isn’t in vain.
these fingers used to run freely
tenderly, through your hair
and through this nest of thoughts.
unruly, but surely, telling me with certainty
i am deserving.
lately, they are hesitant and careful
as if there is nothing worthy to boast about
this silent room is made for poets
i can’t hear anything.
woke up to the bitterness in my youth again
and it’s telling me you are the last thing i need.
as i sit by my bed and try to count the lines in my skin
not as if there is still light within.
still, i tirelessly burn them until they turn blue
one by one, reminding me of the days i could have spent loving you.
they will write you beautiful letters
you will be part of enchanting melodies
somewhere this piece of crumbled paper won’t reach,
but it still knows, i am trying
for you.
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
Northern California, early morning rain
Nestled in the grand sequoia,
Supine and bed-bound calm
Idyllic solitude for an
Avowed pluviophile
The petrichor caress the sense,
Creates a kind euphoria
To banish clinomania.
Arise, await the night and clear
Eyes star-cast, aurora dreaming
Serendipity is life
rc
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC