"constellates" poems
I exhale.
As I fade from this life, I’ll float into the next and to eternity. I am so deeply enveloped in this world that I dissolve into all the others. My body will decompose, and I will exist again as a new collection of atoms.
I suppose through delusional, philosophical excuse I am connected to this world. And I suppose that stardust constellates and buries themselves in my bones. So I must grow in dimensions greater than height, width, and length.
But the veins of this new world are thin wires of cables and in complex codes and formulas are sent to and received by another motherless machine. Although, I’d rather break these wires and create a spark that can be felt rather than seen.
Let me ignite a craving under the continents and satisfy a spark that cannot be replicated by plastic or manipulated into energy. Let me feel the pressure of the world and the thick atmosphere that caves my posture. Let me once more feel by the fibers of kings and commoners that lace through my veins.
The world is deteriorating and has been left so deprived of life’s ecstasy that it is now hollow and I can only hear my own echoes.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
*Lace these faux emotions
In trickery
To drench this void
Hungering for devotion
With flaming apparitions
Of sooth
Wrapped in debris
Of florid sensibility, wasted
Violets burgeoning
In the spaces
Between my ribcage
Turned toxic
These deflated veins
Eviscerated of content.
What was, constellates
At my feet
Like fathomless thoughts
Coiled around spirit
Like ivy
What is, consumes
And unsettles
These rayless irises
The halo that unhinged
To become a different shadow*
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
I exhale.
As I fade from this life, I’ll float into the next and to eternity. I am so deeply enveloped in this world that I dissolve into all the others. My body will decompose, and I will exist again as a new collection of atoms.
I suppose through delusional, philosophical excuse I am connected to this world. And I suppose that stardust constellates and bury themselves in my bones. So I must grow in dimensions greater than height, width, and length.
But the veins of this new world are thin wires of cables and in complex codes and formulas are sent to and received by another motherless machine. Although, I’d rather break these wires and create a spark that can be felt rather than seen.
Let me ignite a craving under the continents and satisfy a spark that cannot be replicated by plastic or manipulated into energy. Let me feel the pressure of the world and the thick atmosphere that caves my posture. Let me once more feel by the fibers of kings and commoners that lace through my veins.
The world is deteriorating and has been left so deprived of life’s ecstasy that it is now hollow and I can only hear my own echoes.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
1. Was I supposed to become a desert in the centre of winter? Was the ivy supposed to coil around my hands. Ever so tightly.
2. Deciphering ambiguous signals is a prelude to madness
3. Let me ****** you with the promise of never after.
4. Trying to sink a while in these threads of light.
5. Syllable altered mood
6. It gets hard in the middle, the start is child's play and the end. Always is.
7. I was confused, set adrift, I haven't been able to find my footing since.
8. Sometimes we die before our dreams breath their last breathe.
9. Wrapped in debris, what was constellates at my very feet.
10. Mosaic of all that has disintegrated.
11. Eviscerate the issue.
12. All my longing carried away in the breeze.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC