All.

I, All-Creation, sing my song of praise
To God Who made me and vouchsafes my days,
And sends me forth by multitudinous ways.

  Seraph.

I, like my Brethren, burn eternally
With love of Him Who is Love, and loveth me;
The Holy, Holy, Holy Unity.

  Cherub.

I, with my Brethren, gaze eternally
On Him Who is Wisdom, and Who knoweth me;
The Holy, Holy, Holy Trinity.

  All Angels.

We rule, we serve, we work, we store His treasure,
Whose vessels are we, brimmed with strength and pleasure;
Our joys fulfil, yea, overfill our measure.

  Heavens.

We float before the Presence Infinite,
We cluster round the Throne in our delight,
Revolving and rejoicing in God's sight.

  Firmament.

I, blue and beautiful, and framed of air,
At sunrise and at sunset grow most fair;
His glory by my glories I declare.

  Powers.

We Powers are powers because He makes us strong;
Wherefore we roll all rolling orbs along,
We move all moving things, and sing our song.

  Sun.

I blaze to Him in mine engarlanding
Of rays, I flame His whole burnt-offering,
While as a bridegroom I rejoice and sing.

  Moon.

I follow, and am fair, and do His Will;
Through all my changes I am faithful still,
Full-orbed or strait, His mandate to fulfil.

  Stars.

We Star-hosts numerous, innumerous,
Throng space with energy untumultuous,
And work His Will Whose eye beholdeth us.

  Galaxies and Nebulae.

No thing is far or near; and therefore we
Float neither far nor near; but where we be
Weave dances round the Throne perpetually.

  Comets and Meteors.

Our lights dart here and there, whirl to and fro,
We flash and vanish, we die down and glow;
All doing His Will Who bids us do it so.

  Showers.

We give ourselves; and be we great or small,
Thus are we made like Him Who giveth all,
Like Him Whose gracious pleasure bids us fall.

  Dews.

We give ourselves in silent secret ways,
Spending and spent in silence full of grace;
And thus are made like God, and show His praise.

  Winds.

We sift the air and winnow all the earth;
And God Who poised our weights and weighs our worth
Accepts the worship of our solemn mirth.

  Fire.

My power and strength are His Who fashioned me,
Ordained me image of His Jealousy,
Forged me His weapon fierce exceedingly.

  Heat.

I glow unto His glory, and do good:
I glow, and bring to life both bud and brood;
I glow, and ripen harvest-crops for food.

  Winter and Summer.

Our wealth and joys and beauties celebrate
His wealth of beauty Who sustains our state,
Before Whose changelessness we alternate.

  Spring and Autumn.

I hope,--
          And I remember,--

                            We give place
Either to other with contented grace,
Acceptable and lovely all our days.

  Frost.

I make the unstable stable, binding fast
The world of waters prone to ripple past:
Thus praise I God, Whose mercies I forecast.

  Cold.

I rouse and goad the slothful, apt to nod,
I stir and urge the laggards with my rod:
My praise is not of men, yet I praise God.

  Snow.

My whiteness shadoweth Him Who is most fair,
All spotless: yea, my whiteness which I wear
Exalts His Purity beyond compare.

  Vapors.

We darken sun and moon, and blot the day,
The good Will of our Maker to obey:
Till to the glory of God we pass away.

  Night.

Moon and all stars I don for diadem
To make me fair: I cast myself and them
Before His feet, Who knows us gem from gem.

  Day.

I shout before Him in my plenitude
Of light and warmth, of hope and wealth and food;
Ascribing all good to the Only Good.

  Light and Darkness.

I am God's dwelling-place,--
                              And also I
Make His pavilion,--
                      Lo, we bide and fly
Exulting in the Will of God Most High.

  Lightning and Thunder.

We indivisible flash forth His Fame,
We thunder forth the glory of His Name,
In harmony of resonance and flame.

  Clouds.

Sweet is our store, exhaled from sea or river:
We wear a rainbow, praising God the Giver
Because His mercy is for ever and ever.

  Earth.

I rest in Him rejoicing: resting so
And so rejoicing, in that I am low;
Yet known of Him, and following on to know.

  Mountains.

Our heights which laud Him, sink abased before
Him higher than the highest evermore:
God higher than the highest we adore.

  Hills.

We green-tops praise Him, and we fruitful heads,
Whereon the sunshine and the dew He sheds:
We green-tops praise Him, rising from out beds.

  Green Things.

We all green things, we blossoms bright or dim,
Trees, bushes, brushwood, corn and grasses slim,
We lift our many-favored lauds to Him.

  Rose,--Lily,--Violet.

I praise Him on my thorn which I adorn,--
And I, amid my world of thistle and thorn,--
And I, within my veil where I am born.

  Apple,--Citron,--Pomegranate.

We, Apple-blossom, Citron, Pomegranate,
We, clothed of God without our toil and fret,
We offer fatness where His Throne is set.

  Vine,--Cedar,--Palm.

I proffer Him my sweetness, who am sweet,--
I bow my strength in fragrance at His feet,--
I wave myself before His Judgment Seat.

  Medicinal Herbs.

I bring refreshment,--
                      I bring ease and calm,--
I lavish strength and healing,--
                                I am balm,--
We work His pitiful Will and chant our psalm.

  A Spring.

Clear my pure fountain, clear and pure my rill,
My fountain and mine outflow deep and still,
I set His semblance forth and do His Will.

  Sea.

To-day I praise God with a sparkling face,
My thousand thousand waves all uttering praise:
To-morrow I commit me to His Grace.

  Floods.

We spring and swell meandering to and fro,
From height to depth, from depth to depth we flow,
We fertilize the world, and praise Him so.

  Whales and Sea Mammals.

We Whales and Monsters gambol in His sight
Rejoicing every day and every night,
Safe in the tender keeping of His Might.

  Fishes.

Our fashions and our colors and our speeds
Set forth His praise Who framed us and Who feeds,
Who knows our number and regards our needs.

  Birds.

Winged Angels of this visible world, we fly
To sing God's praises in the lofty sky;
We scale the height to praise our Lord most High.

  Eagle and Dove.

I the sun-gazing Eagle,--
                          I the Dove,
With plumes of softness and a note of love,--
We praise by divers gifts One God above.

  Beasts and Cattle.

We forest Beasts,--
                    We Beasts of hill or cave,--
We border-loving Creatures of the wave,--
We praise our King with voices deep and grave.

  Small Animals.

God forms us weak and small, but pours out all
We need, and notes us while we stand or fall:
Wherefore we praise Him, weak and safe and small.

  Lamb.

I praise my loving Lord, Who maketh me
His type by harmless sweet simplicity:
Yet He the Lamb of lambs incomparably.

  Lion.

I praise the Lion of the Royal Race,
Strongest in fight and swiftest in the chase:
With all my might I leap and lavish praise.

  All Men.

All creatures sing around us, and we sing:
We bring our own selves as our offering,
Our very selves we render to our King.

  Israel.

Flock of our Shepherd's pasture and His fold,
Purchased and well-beloved from days of old,
We tell His praise which still remains untold.

  Priests.

We free-will Shepherds tend His sheep, and feed;
We follow Him while caring for their need;
We follow praising Him, and them we lead.

  Servants of God.

We love God, for He loves us; we are free
In serving Him, who serve Him willingly:
As kings we reign, and praise His Majesty.

  Holy and Humble Persons.

All humble souls he calls and sanctifies;
All holy souls He calls to make them wise;
Accepting all, His free-will sacrifice.

  Babes.

He maketh me,--
                And me,--
                          And me,--
                                  To be
His blessed little ones around His knee,
Who praise Him by mere love confidingly.

  Women.

God makes our service love, and makes our wage
Love: so we wend on patient pilgrimage,
Extolling Him by love from age to age.

  Men.

God gives us power to rule: He gives us power
To rule ourselves, and prune the exuberant flower
Of youth, and worship Him hour after hour.

  Spirits and Souls--

Lo, in the hidden world we chant our chant
To Him Who fills us that we nothing want,
To Him Whose bounty leaves our craving scant.

  of Babes--

With milky mouths we praise God, from the breast
Called home betimes to rest the perfect rest,
By love and joy fufilling His behest.

  of Women--

We praise His Will which made us what He would,
His Will which fashioned us and called us good,
His Will our plenary beatitude.

  of Men.

We praise His Will Who bore with us so long,
Who out of weakness wrought us swift and strong,
Champions of right and putters-down of wrong.

  All.

Let everything that hath or hath not breath,
Let days and endless days, let life and death,
Praise God, praise God, praise God, His creature saith.

I’m a new kid,
I have a new name.
A new game?
I’m; here…
Undisputed,
I can’t reMember My Old name-
-I’m… Here…

Why do adults live with separation?
I mean; people don’t communicate,
“Consuming assumptions so you can hate”,
But know it is only the variables that are even exchangeable when reaching solutions in mind,
Peep thee illusions of time,
If we live in the moments, it’s fine-
Until we come across a choice and we’re absent from our voice,
It’s the voices we’re fed that sides;
Uhh DECIIDE!,
(“be humble”)
There’s THREE TIMES,
(“sit down”)
Now breathe…
The dreams I’m having, reiterated “I” in past;
But yet, I’m here,
Right now, my last thought is the last, last,
Cause says be; clear,
On my intentions,
I want love and affection,
That’s why I put myself sec (secondary) and,
Call me Reese Bobby;
In a world of duality,
“If you ain’t first-”
-You’re definitely not second,

What is transgression?
-If we were made to be,
Why does the resurrection of thy self only exist in make belief?
How can I indulge and embrace realities that weren’t made for me?
Especially when I was giving my own, it seems foolish to trade my ability to see,

I experienced her;
It’s a blessing, how she’d hold me tight,
I experienced him,
I never questioned who he was, inside,
I never fight… unless it’s by side,
It is beside, I fought with them; I speak of internal conflict,
Control accomplished,
The ego beyond it; we realize it’s the experience that takes us to a place in time, I speak of a space in a line that curves on a geometric plane that consists of circles intertwined that is often perceived as the fabrics of the universe but to save us the stretch of time, we see that it is the experience that defines life,
So who am I?
That question’s redundant,
It is all that resides in me;
I.e. abundance,
It is because of everyone in my reality, that I was able to see the cohesion, and it is because of that reason that I experience oneness,
I’m simply done with,
Using other people’s beliefs to constitute how I interact,
Because their realities are incompatible with what I essentially, intend to attract,
Certain interactions can remain abstract,
I can no longer take opinions on thoughts, if I’m the only one experiencing thoughts;
Your imagination shouldn’t be programed to be comprehensive with the past- extract,
There’s no math in that,
You’re just rearranging the variables, there’s no flow towards the conclusion;
Perspectives placed in fact,
And although this realization can be an impact,
We’d only turn our focus into a debate on what you did lack rather than embracing the thoughts that occurred that would only exploit one thing,
The solutions to the equations that you did have,
As the creators of our realities,
If it is problematic, the writer of the problem encodes an Easter egg that exploits how it is; it was you who did it,
How can we enjoy new thoughts, if they are the old thoughts?
We revisit.
It’s impossible to allude in digits if it is one we elicit…

People love my personality; they obviously love themselves,
Seeing myself in them is why I became an advocate for the conscious body of thought...and it’s health,
I.e. I express our extrinsic abundance of wealth;
I’ll reiterate; I.a. free man,
That’s: free thought, free love, free plan,
I’ll obliterate the mean-in; AI by using IA,
U-no reverse cards was the cause of humans comprehending backwards my friend,
We live backwards because we look back first,
So I’m confused on the AI fuss,
If an Artificial Intelligence is constructed based off our current level of intelligence, and is only responsive to our negligence because of the installment of IA (information architecture), then there’s no possible way for this room to have an elephant being that an AI is just an extension of us,

Who do you love?
-Is it enough?
-curious in, experiencing experiences other than lust…

I’m hearing some things,
“Who do I touch?”
Rhetorical questions; my love is a gift which seeded from trust,
I’m not one of them, I’m one of us,
One of a kind yet mind; innumerous,

I was born and knew nothing,
Only sure of my existence,
I experienced life and only found myself,
Time is only distorted when mind is missing,
Be mindful of your thoughts, it is the structure of your personality,
We just went through seven chakras expressing rationality;
I think we all can agree that T-B.O.P’s in another dimension,
And all she wants is for us to merge into our bodies potential extension...
PHI

PROMETHEUS (alone)

O holy Aether, and swift-winged Winds,
And River-wells, and laughter innumerous
Of yon Sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all,
And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you,--
Behold me a god, what I endure from gods!
Behold, with throe on throe,
How, wasted by this woe,
I wrestle down the myriad years of Time!
Behold, how fast around me
The new King of the happy ones sublime
Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me!
Woe, woe! to-day's woe and the coming morrow's
I cover with one groan. And where is found me
A limit to these sorrows?
And yet what word do I say? I have foreknown
Clearly all things that should be; nothing done
Comes sudden to my soul--and I must bear
What is ordained with patience, being aware
Necessity doth front the universe
With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse
Which strikes me now, I find it hard to brave
In silence or in speech. Because I gave
Honor to mortals, I have yoked my soul
To this compelling fate. Because I stole
The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went
Over the ferrule's brim, and manward sent
Art's mighty means and perfect rudiment,
That sin I expiate in this agony,
Hung here in fetters, 'neath the blanching sky.
Ah, ah me! what a sound,
What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen
Of a god, or a mortal, or nature between,
Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound,
To have sight of my pangs, or some guerdon obtain--
Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain!
The god Zeus hateth sore,
And his gods hate again,
As many as tread on his glorified floor,
Because I loved mortals too much evermore.
Alas me! what a murmur and motion I hear,
As of birds flying near!
And the air undersings
The light stroke of their wings--
And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.

AALI DIWALI

Excitement already there is in the atmosphere, our very air!!!

Goodies, gifts, flowers, lights we wish to, with dear ones, now share.

As citizens good, let's also exhibit some environment friendly care.

Banish Chinese items, I will, because I care for my India n also dare !

Use let us earthen Diyas, decorated in hand; Beautiful ones, beyond compare !

Candles Beautiful can be made or bought n decorated in a bright way.

Colourful Rangoli let us make with organic compounds, indigenous n rare.

Designs, with colours innumerous, one can create if one has a flair.

Same way, why pay so much to buy  torn jeans, buy let's a decent traditional pair.

Traditional dresses so colourful are and look pretty n  (no wrong meaning) gay.

Pizza, pasta, pastries boycott; try laddu, chakri or Khaja jo mawa se hei bhare.

Instead of flowers, gift Bamboo or money plants or other saplings; what say ?

Gift let us, things made in India. From China, let's willingly sway away !

"Aali Diwali"  but create let us noise n smoke less. we must on this, an emphasis lay.

Innovative one can be, using imagination vivid to cute gifts make; n less amounts pay.

No WA, try and visit Grandparents, Mama, Kaka, Aatya, Maushi, is all I have to say !!!

HAPPY WALI DIWALI.

Armin Dutia Motashaw

AALI DIWALI

Excitement already there is in the atmosphere, our very air!!!

Goodies, gifts, flowers, lights we wish to, with dear ones, now share.

As citizens good, let's also exhibit some environment friendly care.

Banish Chinese items, I will, because I care for my India n also dare !

Use let us earthen Diyas, decorated in hand; Beautiful ones, beyond compare !

Candles Beautiful can be made or bought n decorated in a bright way.

Colourful Rangoli let us make with organic compounds, indigenous n rare.

Designs, with colours innumerous, one can create if one has a flair.

Same way, why pay so much to buy  torn jeans, buy let's a decent traditional pair.

Traditional dresses so colourful are and look pretty n  (no wrong meaning) gay.

Pizza, pasta, pastries boycott; try laddu, chakri or Khaja jo mawa se hei bhare.

Instead of flowers, gift Bamboo or money plants or other saplings; what say ?

Gift let us, things made in India. From China, let's willingly sway away !

"Aali Diwali"  but create let us noise n smoke less. we must on this, an emphasis lay.

Innovative one can be, using imagination vivid to cute gifts make; n less amounts pay.

No WA, try and visit Grandparents, Mama, Kaka, Aatya, Maushi, is all I have to say !!!

HAPPY WALI DIWALI.

Armin Dutia Motashaw

From dewy dreams, my soul, arise,
From love's deep slumber and from death,
For lo! the treees are full of sighs
Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.

Eastward the gradual dawn prevails
Where softly-burning fires appear,
Making to tremble all those veils
Of grey and golden gossamer.

While sweetly, gently, secretly,
The flowery bells of morn are stirred
And the wise choirs of faery
Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.

Heatwave.

Dust whirling,
after mobile departures,
in the decadence
of our innumerous crows'-feet.

The sweat of humidity
dropping on neutrally carpeted floors.

Beer lubricating
many a rusty throat
as human optimism
and pessimism
make friends with each other
in a warlike fashion.

I hold my shame in the folds of my stomach
as I poke and pinch
and pinch and poke
seeing what I need to fix

I hold my shame in the lines of my stretch marks
as I push and rub
pretending or hoping its just imprints from my jeans

I hold my shame in my scars
as I count and count
they seem innumerous

but it shouldn’t be this way

I should hold my pride in the folds of my stomach
as it tells you that i’m okay

I should hold my pride in the lines of my stretch marks
it tells the story of how my body fought to
keep my emotional mess in

I should hold my pride in my scars
as they are trophies of the times my body has won the battle
against pain, clumsiness, and everything in between

because all I really mean is that my pride is in how I look
not in what you tell me I should change

i fell in love with a writer. i will forever be in her world, even way past her death. i don't exactly know why i fell in love, or how i managed to do so, but i do know that i am perfectly okay with doing so. sometimes, when she looks at me, i am able to picture myself in her bed on my worst nights, and she by my side, holding me the entire time as i shake with fear and anxiety. and somehow, in those milliseconds when i look into those unkept swimming pools of eyes, i get lost and i forget who i am. she knows me like the map of veins on the inside of her wrists; she fathoms me in an unexplainable kind of way, more than anyone else, honestly. my sentences are not making any sense but i really dont care. i know she will read this. i know because i am purposely going to send her this link and she is going to let her eyes travel over each word that is typed.

okay let me start over.

how do you tell someone that they are all you want? that the dreams give you a craving that must be eventually put into words so they could possibly be put into action? i probably do not know what i am talking about. i went insane looking for her. i guess a part of me will always be insane, regardless of whether or not she plays a part in it. but, i do know this: i want her to be. i want her to drive me insane and i want her to push me to my limits. i dont want to just feel love for her. i want it all. i want the hate, the tears, the heartbreak, the pain, the joy, the angst, the lust, the melancholy, the happiness, everything. i want every emotion that comes with being in love with her. i want the hell, the heaven, and the purgatory. i want the planets in her veins and i want the constellations that linger on the edge of her lips so that every time i kiss her, i taste galaxies and nebulas. i want every ******* metaphor. i want every ******* reality. i dont know, i want so much; i am putting myself out here for her and i still dont even fully fathom whether or not she wants the same. i mean, i think she does? maybe, maybe not. it is yet another mystery i must learn to solve over time. i cannot go two feet without bumping into some piece of her. when i go out to get coffee, i imagine her sitting in that café right next  to me, reading a book she bought for fifty cents at a yard sale. i can imagine her in the most obscure places; walking next to me in the grocery store, staring at the puppies through the window of the pet shop on main street, in the mall with me dying to try the new hot chocolate at starbucks, buying cheap shampoo at the dollar store because we are going on some sort of three day adventure to anywhere. i see her everywhere. i feel her everywhere. i crave her everywhere. and this letter may make me seem out of my mind, but oh ******* well.
some things we dont talk about. we simply dont have to. i think that there is a mutual understanding between us for some things. to be honest, i didn't only fall in love with a writer. i fell in love with someone who holds many titles: lover. poet. dreamer. thinker. listener. talker. adventurer. brand new day. she is so much. she is an arbutrary holiday that is dying to be celebrated. her bones are filled with wanderlust, and she makes a mean hot cocoa. there is always a lovely way to look at her. even the distance between us is equally as beautiful as the distance between stars.

she is the perfect combination of subtle and mysterious, all while making it seem as though she is an open book waiting to be read by the loveliest pair of brown eyes. she is a universely misunderstood paradox, and she has the capability of making you think twice about what you are going to say, even without opening her mouth. she is a foreign film so full of incomprehensible words, yet you can fathom everything about her if you actually take the time to get to know her. she can make you fall for her just by closing her eyes and making a wish at 11:11pm. she makes you contemplate the meaning of life, and she can paralyze you all while batting one eyelash. she is the feeling of a warm blanket on a cold december night, and she is the cool breeze that caresses you on a humid july afternoon. she is that new song you hear in the coffee shop but will never know the name of, even though you will spend innumerous nights searching for it on the internet and in record stores. and oh god, if only she had the oppertunity to see herself from my perspective- she would fall in love with herself just as easily as i did for her. for she has never encountered a love like this likewise of squeezing into last year's prom dress. every single day, she will make my heart beat indefensibly faster and faster. and she will continually wonder why i fell for her, and eventually she will understand why it was simply her who occupied my vacant heart even though my bed was preoccupied by broken promises and empty words. she gazes at me skeptically, yet understandingly. and i will never stop trying to let her know that i ******* love her until it is nothing short of crystal clear. i will never get used to her; she changes over time and so do her thoughts and emotions and perspectives and opinions. i will never fully fathom her, but god knows i will ******* try. and every single day, i will love her more than the last. and she will continually wonder why i dedicate so much to her, for her, and about her. the entire ******* world knows about her. she is all i ever write about lately, and it soothes yet annoys me at the same time because she is always on my mind. i have waited a lifetime for her to love me, and i would patiently wait another if it meant that she will one day be the first eyes that i see when i wake up on sunday mornings.
god only knows what is hiding in her weak and fragile heart, in those glassy and lost eyes. and although she has the tendency to change her religions, it does not lessen the fact that she the universe in her soul.

so this is my letter about the girl i fell in love with. she is the only girl i have ever fallen for, and she has made me see the world from a different perspective. and i cannot even thank her for giving me the oppertunity to become like this. i dont know, maybe i am insane, but all the great artists were; hemingway, einstein, twain, poe, cobain, the list goes on and on.

maybe this time things will be better than they were.
maybe this time you can be the girl i write about who sneaks into my bedroom late at night to spend even five minutes together.
maybe you can be that girl who admires me from afar.
maybe you can be that girl who writes love letters to me and drops it off anonymously at my house at ten in the morning, and once i read it i already know who it is from by your handwriting.
maybe this time you will fall harder and deeper for me than you did before.
maybe this time we will find peace,
and maybe this time every single memory of ours that we make will last for decades.


i love you.*


{m.j.}

This is his Henri Julian Rousseau taboo land,
here he appears as the lion night after night,
with his tail stiffened, *****--but the Gypsy wasn't there

Bathed in psychedelic strobe lights, now
here on a plush confession table doubling as their stage
his Gypsy lies spread-eagled,  
til there is no secrets left in her body, he now tries
to pry open the many chambers of her peripatetic mind.

With a lingering kiss, he in vain tries to arrest her
never subdued spirit and begins his secret rituals
for the angel of sin, black magic maiden, yin for his yang
who in ways direct, sly or by allusion, is the bestower of
a million forbidden pleasures,  whispering,like a mantra thus:
"There is no right or wrong, all illusions, within an imagined truth"
which made him stray, albeit, within the labyrinth
like innumerous men of power, which they gained
shedding blood, sweat and tears; as if there is nothing beyond.

She who by instinct engineered his downfall
from the pantheon of the anointed is finally here
but this is no retribution, only return of the favors received,
his throbbing lust seeks her deep interior's caresses
giving her forgiveness in return, his masculine urges
wish to be gripped by her unusual craving,
she is melting like butter, her sweet urges fight back
in unison they seethe, wreath, roll and race to culminate.

On a swing hanging high ,above the poisoned earth
for a few sweet transient moments they remain,
weep in pleasure til they fall in to slime and crawl back to life
--then the Gypsy and the Lion remember nothing .

Suspended vocals laid in the cavern of my chest,
where treasures innumerous,
have sunk and there are no maps that travel so deep.

There are scarlet ravages blistered and noxious of things repressed,
they fester and poison,
such beauty as to leave scars.

Sink into this paradigm of suffering, isolation, and idle punishment,
bind it to you like the paintings of a great man,
hollow and pleasant to the unknowing eye.

Leave yourself spent in this cavern,
do not cling to some passing thing.
Purge yourself of lifes' ponderous illusion,
become lifeless like so many before you.

I am enigmatically saturated
in a silhouette
that deluded the eyes
of my innumerous bits

has it
or has it not
bewitched the demons
and turned the scale
from black to white

But I shall implant
the keen arrow
and spill the venom
of X and Y

now I see
a bow in your right hand
rage in your left
that took the arrow
with a tighter grasp

as it creep,
into the deep
into the crimson liquid of mine

how my cries
desperately thrive
how they bloom
in a gown of gloom

yet how they sleep
by those bits, unreleased
against your silhouette
saturated
un deceased

If people could be
a tad more appreciative
of poetic expressions
targeting them
with
too many verses for their eyes
innumerous adjectives for hair
absurd geographical descriptions of body parts
and cheesy feelings too shameful to ****** express
and just
just get a bit more intimate
with all those miserable
lonely
sorrowful
poets...

that would be great.

as I stared at my reflection,
the words "you're not good enough" clouded my mind
the person looking directly at me, was not me
it wasn't the person I wanted myself to be
I spent years and years trying to perfect myself in a way where I would be "good enough"
I let every insult slowly tear the very skin that made me human
I wanted to live up to the expectations my parents had,
only to be disappointed with innumerous failures set up along my path
but then I realized
after beating myself up day and night and
after i had no skin left to tear,
that humans weren't meant to be "good enough"
us humans were meant to be better
from then on,
I grew on skin so thick even words couldn't puncture it

I want to taste the black ink bled
by my ever lonesome and worrying pen.

I want to paint the floors with
my innumerous words for
how I've been doing here.

In this **** hole apartment.

I love my apartment, wait, don't listen to me.
I'm grateful for all these golden opportunities.
Life shone brightly upon my needs.

I want to coat the back of the toilet in ****,
the bathtub in mold and mildew.

I want to rip the curtains to shreds
and ignite them into a funeral pyre.

I'll exhale smoke and smile through the carcinogens.
I'll bleed from my knuckles.
I'll snap every last pen I can find.

I'll snap every last pen.

Life has been good to me,
I'm genuinely happy.


I'm happy

and I'll **** you.
I'll **** me.

Stupidity.
How many times can I apologize
In the span of a week?
How many things can I do
That are worth apologizing for?

In so few days.

Innumerous.
Stupidity.