"tessellate" poems
We always joked that we wouldn't be **** buddies.
Anything involving *** will not work for an asexual.
We'd be cuddle buddies.
The second we'd meet up, we'd hug and cuddle.
We wouldn't do as most long distance 'couples' would.
We'd just cuddle.
Maybe I could finally fall asleep.
Something's changed between then and now.
You've changed.
When you stopped caring, I'm not sure.
But you did.
You stopped caring about me and that's okay.
Something got in between us.
Not just distance
I still can't help but think how nicely our bodies tessellated.
Even with 1047 miles between us.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
flip/switch.
the dark runs to corners:
unswept cobwebs, unmarked
graves of
lacewings.
mirror, mirror.
tessellate:
you
me
you
kaleidoscopic in the seven years’
worth of bad luck.
you come here with new eyes and
brand-new dockers. i
mend the broken siding in my mind’s eye.
prune the wisteria and uproot
ivy in handfuls.
i unconsciously check for
onion peel
underneath the kitchen sink.
the pantry
where one of the pups died.
the disappointment of eyes
bloodshot
but dry.
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 7:19 PM UTC
When you change the colour of the view,
The world takes on a different hue.
Writing's both a window and a mirror,
You can see life and yourself clearer.
This stained glass window labelled a poem,
Different phrases, different colours, different gems.
The scales of glass in an iron frame,
My words must fit the form.
Each word a different shard on the palette,
A poetic mosaic, not quite transparent.
A translucent lens.
I will you see creation through it
Extenuating before you in a piquant pigment.
In a tint I can show you joy,
In a separate, pane. Tainted.
Yellow, blue, red and green,
And a thousand nuances yet unseen.
You can't read all of it, nor look through every colour,
But perhaps the icon on the window can be discerned
When they tessellate together, the person I am trying to show, the bigger picture, the grand design.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
Dear, dear, don’t go out, dear
don’t move don’t play don’t do
stay, stay in my embrace, is my caress not enough for you?
i’ll hug your frame till the inside it flees for good
safe and warm and safe and warm
they’ve come and i’ve no way to go, stay
the door is closed, you see them drift by but don’t go, don’t go
heady bright fluorescents that drug, stay planted
with me dear, with me, don’t go
hold me back, closer, i’ll drop a kiss on your blank forehead
dear i love you, i love you, i love you
live thunderclouds in the sky, killing rain solidified underneath
they play haunting un-music, the silence absolute
and dear stop asking questions,
don’t talk about them don’t break under curiosity, stay still, stay silent
stay here in my embrace and let us comfort each other
dear shh, no don’t, don’t talk, because they’ll know
they’ll know they’ll know they know
dear you left me, i told you not
to go but you went through the door like a storm
and you closed it; the room is electricity as
i watch you move; cobbled streets
and then you are there in front and i wasn’t enough as
they reach tendrils to your cheeks and whisper the universe
you laugh and tessellate
and then you fall and crash and dissolve
dear i am alone
i still see you out there sometimes, purple and black
and blue where they loved you
a delicacy; escargot for the new reign
of apathetic gods who love and then forget and
dear, dear the house creaks where they brush by and i
miss those questions, wind in my ears
not silent prairie of fear and loss and grief
dear i love you
dear i am not enough
dear i am sorry
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
Some nights, I would set sail
To a thousand words on paper,
And one by one, they would get lost
Beneath the rip tides of your skin.
In sentience and in sleep,
Darling, you are only as real
As the last verse I wrote
On the crumpled walls of dusk.
While the world slaughters dreamers,
I watch you, begging the moon
To drop pieces of itself on sea foam.
I am a slave to your every step.
Tucked underneath crystalline sighs,
The stars would come out to put up tents
In the corner of your eyes, their light
Guiding the way for misguided missives.
Moored to your voice, I listen
As you speak in the language of waves,
Your words undulating with my metaphors,
But stirring holocausts for the heartbroken.
But you are here, and the lines between your eyes
Get tangled up with thoughts bred by midnight.
Your hair, your hair, they tessellate and play
With the colors of honey and amber.
Perhaps, if one were to crack you open
The light of a thousand adjectives
Would come seeping out of your skin.
I am but the shadow it will cast.
And in shadows, they whisper
That dreams can get lost
In the vacancies of the night.
Every night, with you
I set sail to my words
To find them
And lure them back.
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 6:58 AM UTC
Glimpses of the past
captured in shots.
Much to relish and savour.
Much to learn from.
But they flash by
all too quickly.
If I could,
these still frames
I’d tessellate haphazardly;
for they never came in sequence.
Then I’d pan out to see
a view of a wall...
Towering to the heavens
as high as my vision could reach,
spanning the horizon
as far as my head could turn.
I peer
but with naked eyes,
a busy mosaic
of my history
told in sepia.
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 2:23 PM UTC
Obsession followed by jealousy and possession,
masked as love
Manipulation and deceit
Lying through your ******* teeth
Hateful words and aggression followed by violent outbursts, and
the sound of your fist going through the wall
Always rationalizing your bad behavior
or blaming me
Isolation and Oppression
Prodding and stalking, prodding and stalking
Control,
You stole
my life away
But I settled for
Walking on eggshells so as not to disturb
Hiding my views so as not to provoke
Trying to fit into your perfect mold
I thought our shapes would tessellate, but I was blinded by the misconception of your alleged love for me
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC
There’s something so hopeful
about a pitch black sky—
the kind of deep and ominous nothing
that couldn’t care less about your
renewed sunrise and
clean slated second chances.
There’s a calm in that darkness
that I **** up in one breath.
I hold it there, in my swollen lungs,
until I go a purple fit for her majesty,
and any specks of light that catch my eye
tessellate and turn and repeat.
This world becomes a slow song
caught in a kaleidoscope,
and I’m dancing,
happily,
happily alone.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
meet me in the moment and carry me away
tell me there are better things in store for us today
tell me you're a dreamer, night can be our guide
we can live inside our heads, a place for us to hide
space will claim our bodies and bind them in a knot
keep them where the people are but never let them rot
time is not the issue, granted we're asleep
riding out infinity like rivers running deep
synchronized completely, a level playing field
fluid rationality is finally unsealed
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
Your heart has been broken.
I’ll pick up the pieces,
And glue them with kisses,
Back to life I will stroke them.
Let me fill your missing sections
With the shattered parts
Of my own broken heart,
And we’ll be each other’s resurrection.
Wounded and dissected,
Your soul thirsting exempt.
Imperfect, unkempt
As our kisses mend our rejected.
Let yourself into my affection,
Because I need it, too.
Our smile knows the truth:
We're the cure for our infection.
We tessellate in time:
I am a part of who you are,
And you are a part of mine.
Mosaic of us:
Broken in our own way,
Perfectly aligned
Along these jagged lines
To form a beauty unrefined.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
What is an object in the light is a moving shadow in the night.
Stand between them
Shoot them in the head and dance with their demons.
Tessellate and heavy eyes
It's mourning
And I'm still up.
Open my eyes to the blinding light
In an ocean of darkness, I sea.
Time becomes length
Thought becomes sight
Vivid consciousness takes flight
A troublesome delight.
Slip in
Slip out
Dream in dream out
Dayless nights
Tiresome wake
A moving shadow in the night
Is but an object in the light.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
contemplations of an angsty agnostic
otherwise known as the subtitle to my lengthy biopic
or the fumbling intellectual journey
the endless search to find
the divine reality behind,
to trace, pinpoint exactly what lies
at the center of the cosmos
at the crucified heart of all humankind
some days i feel there is no God
no chance of a higher power
i'm resigned to spewing cliched aphorisms as nihilistic as Schopenhauer
fragmented theories and meditations on life
consuming my thoughts and flooding my mind
ideas tessellate and twist as i'm crumbling, stumbling to try and make sense of all this
i find
the existential condition that burdens the shoulders of the wonder filled kids
from the blinkered blues of the beats
to the hopeful hedonism of the hippies
and the time tick ticks
regardless of the passing ecstasy of our dream-filled kicks
i feel there must be something more than this.
absurdity has the tendency to consume the very core of me
ultimately, does that not make me more free?
like Sisyphus, i stagnate
repetitive routines threaten to enchain me
but i believe i know the path i'm on
and i have to know it will save me
we live in times
of overwhelming, reeling uncertainty
is it true that one day the gleaming, spinning light will find me?
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
i don't think i'll ever forgive him
for choosing me to suffer without you
you were ripped from me
i have been at the bottom of the sea
he thought an ark would save everyone
i'm still here, i am drowning
i am the prodigal son,
confused, setting fire to every pew
that made me believe in him
more than my own self
i don't need him like i need you
i will baptize myself in your name
i will crucify my body and let
my soul find itself your way
until that day comes, i am
waiting for you to join me
let's tessellate.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
there's a constellation of glass shards in the back of your car
tessellate them into a few sleepy cigarettes
within a few drags
the night and your room became the universe
and i'm forgetting to say that it was anxiety
that passed me the blanket to give you
we're tucked into a few comforters; i'd like to stay that way
but when you wake up, you still have to break the icicles that formed between us and i can't say i ever fell asleep
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC
White slates
blank plates
isolate ....
let's relate
let emotions
delegate
risky stakes
who cares
let's ...
before it's too
late
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
Smoke rises thick and strange
liplocking a joint,
my hand gently caressing his thigh,
I'm high.
Haze, daze, kaleidoscopic vision and
a million ways of looking at life.
Heart race.
Touch the air, taste the lights
blips of conversations
picture not in whole
i remember words, feelings, lies,
bloodshot eyes, laughs, unforgivable social gaffes.
Silence.
distorted vision, emotional collision
yellow, blue, red.
Green.
we're suddenly in bed
warm flesh, breathing escalated
damp sheets, whispered profanity
euphoric chills, midnight treats.
we crave the lights again,
we want to feel the air, and we try,
the smoke and the ceiling find embrace
once again,
it's late, we debate, and tessellate the night
with pieces of our mind.
Fate. you talk to me, you tell me your secrets and I relate
sun beams seep through the shades
and glaze our bodies to rest,
we hug them and lay side by side:
I'm numb,
you're oblivious,
we're derezzed.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
My mind is full of thoughts and sounds and words
It's influenced my mindset a great deal
I can be understood, or at least heard
It's easy to express the things I feel
And this extends to every piece of me
Even the pieces that, given the choice,
I might have rather lived with silently
Than shiver in discovering their voice
Sometimes it's just one track, a monologue
Sometimes a duet, chorus, symphony
I cannot see the raindrops for the fog
I cannot see the forest for the trees
Some other people have tried to give names
To all these whisperers between their ears
If God is the wise voice that keeps us safe
The Devil is the part of us we fear
The id speaks only in short sentences
I want, I need, I love, I feel, I hate
The superego blunt but coherent
Dodecahedra do not tessellate
Sometimes they go off and do their own thing
One solves a math problem, the other dreams
Sometimes I catch them speaking, arguing
One speaks in monotone, the other screams
And I stand in between and keep the peace
The moderator, I, the ego, me
And when I create art I can increase
The interplay which flows ever between
When I combine the various powers
It fosters in me love and harmony
I listen to my roots, leaves, and flowers
But I am only one; I am the tree
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 12:31 PM UTC
Show me all your sides
Let me trace your angles with my tongue
And bite your edges with my enamelled teeth.
Show me all the ways in which you curve
And I'll demonstrate my own contorted corners.
Lay your blueprints on the table
Let me wonder at the architecture of you.
Trace your plans onto thin paper
And we can tessellate;
until you're happy at last .
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
I want her to tell me that she needs me.
That she loves me.
That she can't do without me.
That I've helped her so much and that she's ******* grateful for it.
Like I help her when nobody else can.
Like I understand her like nobody else can.
I want her to say that she enjoys spending time with me and loves me for me and has things to say to me and it's not just me being crazy and it's not just me obsessing over a girl who will never quite love me like I love her and who finds me so intensely annoying but ultimately harmless to the extent that she just keeps me around because it's easier but all the while is pretty disgusted at so many aspects of me including my mind my body my personality my beliefs my desires my achievements what I love and what I hate. What I look like and how I'm not cool and how it all just adds up to me not being good enough and me loving her so much that I just want to sew my skin to hers like a parasite or a conjoined twin or a clown beneath the mask of her. I want to be so close to her that her blood mixes with mine and our organs **** together like wet sand and we globulate and tessellate until there is nothing left of us apart, no white and black, no confused and certain, no happy and sad, just a huge, ***** grey mess of monotone colours mixed and mixed and oh it will be so beautiful and so sad and so unlike anything you have ever seen before.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
•
I'm coloring in these tensiles
Shapes test patterns to sell
Instead I'm constructing a new formation
My mentality blending in with my insanity
Painting in pain so the light spilt into the paint
Running deep blue waters while yellow splashes in with the compassion
Bubbles piling up to pop at the surface to serve my dying face
A boat bought sinks with beautiful daffodils as poetry
Separates the ink from the words
Colors distorted from the canvas
As I emerge the sky is now mine
All these patterns I've gained
Become my whole page
Tell a scope because my view is far out
Tessellated picture is now draped as my soul
Proceed my figure and we both shall see the sea shells
•
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 8:29 PM UTC
Bonds form and tessellate among the weary ash.
A drip pan drifting onto a solemn scurry
as she wipes away the tears in forlorn flurry.
It looked upon her mantle with nostalgia and
she looked into its heart before prodding the beast.
It died before it lived in equal harmony.
No point in seeking ill will of the lepers.
But there might some semblance of resentfulness.
A bitter bile resting in lips who confess.
Or maybe it’s an illusion of a locks and key.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 12:46 AM UTC
it was fall yet I dreamt of february air
and the waters of march
I wanted to play it right, become an animal,
obey the generals and run a marathon in roses, a garden race
before the cafe is a cathedral,
where midnight starts a waltz, hints at more modern times
the times that hold bedroom eyes, every holiday, birthday, funeral, every beat, city, every kind of splendour
that sends our hearts running wild
the times that hold such strangeness and charm, fiction,
even pigeons, even demons
I wanted to cling to the bravado; be no one's girlfriend; in a coma for six weeks; see science and visions and multiplication like a movie script, ending
I wanted to decorate each plain verse, make the grey into pink, tessellate the shapes of its inherent hearts and knives
it was fall and you asked if like empty bottles, we float
if I would change my name to ingrid
if all our weekends could echo of pleasure sighs
I wanted to embrace the atlantic, climb to new heights,
come awake
but could a schoolboy help me do these things?
could he lay beside me in the snow and call it paradise?
would he make me stare into mirrors all night,
waiting by the phone? would he make me feel like I was nothing ordinary?
-c.j.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
There is no answer to this place
The way the pieces tessellate
Just be gracious when you say
“I do not know”
If there are endings to these days
A point to all these games
I accept the hollowness of praise –
Others and my own
There is no conclusion to this play
No damsel here to save
Make some honour out of disgrace –
And leave alone
But there’s a lesson to be learned from shame
At least you know its name
Embrace the beauty of its face
As you strike for home.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC