Emblazoned.
Can you feel it?

The fire,

The white hot, radiating flame

Set ablaze by an intangible being
Something nobody knows

Like an unsolvable mystery

A question left unanswered

Left there to decay

Like an unopened letter,

Corners tearing and wasting away
Edges beginning to burn into nothingness

So the contents may never be seen,
Never be felt

Never be heard again

The ink melting and splaying

Across the page, tiny remnants of it
Forming a microcosm of the unrelenting haze

That is suffocating the night sky
Forcing itself upon the tops of the trees

The smoldering branches and withering leaves

Making a revival of the forest almost impossible

For all the trails and paths are unnavigable

Clouded by a smokescreen of pain and misfortune

The once endless, lush, 

Serenity of branches 

Attempt to reach for the sky

Like a baby reaching for its mother
The only thing it knows that can give it life

That can keep it safe

But are constantly smothered by the endless grey

The seemingly perpetual mess of burning air

But somehow,
Somehow, 

There’s a pinnacle of light

One last glimmer of hope
That hope is you

You’ve started a spark in my soul

And even though my face has started to burn up

I finally feel whole.

Unquestionable, firmly examined facts hold on solid ground,
Confirmed from living fiction and knowing minds.
But this is the sea, doubtful trade-winds, frightful storms, doldrums rich Of inactivity, the water looks fine until you dive. Until you sink.

Tropical rotations, influential easterlies void of West African dust,
Stir the depths into unnavigable waters. the boldest stitches will rip, Possessive nests will fill of cawing crow's imagining uniformed horizons. Clouds will hallucinate above an unstable phthalo blue.

Depressions created by uneven poles, so coldly separate but,
These days are in the tropics. endlessly middle green, equatorial and lush In figuration, continuing as the great divide between such chilly distances.
It remains the equalizer, massively active without the thought of day.

Unquestionable. Doubtful of Naught on land. these depressions are not For our concern, they say. They are earth, compounded by the will of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Bow; pray. Weep from fear. sacrifice your Souls for his favor, his pity will spare his wrath; his pity will spare life.

Unquestionable, they say. They speak in certainties. Not knowing the
Days when our nature remained unquestioning. A time before my vision Heightened towards perfection. Before his plans unfolded into Nothingness; scribbling pious fool. Denied of will, accepting the ill of it.

Placed at sea, our sails may rip and crows may gather together.
Their cries of fortune remain the most familiar. On land too, their call is a Familiar caw. not fateful of Godly affairs, or willful of the willing.
He was not there when the storm approached; Nor present as it passed.

He did not show pity when enlightened of our truths. Apathetic
Towards He, that holds the anchor when standing in rising tides.  
Apathetic towards He, beaten man of unjustly men, frustrated with Ignorance and misleading truth. Practicing rage, passing on hate.

Clouds of deathly intentions flashed bright of color and sound, revolving Above the stirring deep where circumstance crescendoed into a coda of Rattling crows. Where sails ripped free from stitching in the passing squall And hope had lost itself amongst the wailing souls and rising seas.

Unquestionable,there were times when faith drifted alongside in the guise
Of cooing Sirens, supple in song and form. Alluding to lust and love, Tempestuously adrift. Giving aim away from direction, only leading Further into Bedlam. Where the mirage of paradise appears.

Tilted storms spitting rain, winds pushed our hull closer to the deep. We Were left to truths of weathering might. Water spilled from above and Rose from below in equal volumes, displaced from equal but opposing forces. Differentiated by the sting, not by circumstance.

In it all, we lost everything. the caws of gulls, the coos of Sirens, the Hopeful sails to catch a promising wind. All we had were the cresting Waves of a torrential sea. All we had were the forceful rains and winds From clouds intent on freeing us from our undeserving existence.

No longer just adrift, our vessel groaned groans only equal to the sound Saved for aging beasts of dying mythology. The sounds of a beast Cornered in an arena filled with hungry spectators, out to feed their taste Of whining blood. Eager to watch "weakness" be ruled by humanity.

We held onto ourselves like the aging beast anchored to the groaning hull. We drank the water without intention like we were lost amidst the sahara Sun. We watched as blue joined together from above and below, Attempting to squeeze out life just like sweet forbidden fruit.

There was nothing we could do. this was no different than on land. We
Knew this place, in-between. Where our blood was used as juice to quench The thirst of humanity. Whether earth or civilization, we remain pressed Between, afloat in the seas of misfortunate circumstance.

Where we hold onto all we can with apathy to circumstance because
That is all we have come to know. That is all we have been allowed by god, Mother earth, humanity. We look upon all things with a smile and good Will. We know no other way, but listen for the cawing crows.

It remains unquestionable, that this is the sea.
On land too, it is unquestionable still, that this is also the sea.

I die in within the moments that are coalescing
                                                          inward­s between
                                                   a fraction of  breath,
and I revive to expel the moments my
consciousness that fled to oblivion.

Welcome to the bereavement of my
                            wordings decaying
to nothingness before your eyes/.
Translate them before they
are inert, and are the
                          voice
                           of the
                                dead.
No longer dead and unnavigable in verse.

Ocean: When you are legendary

Utopia of lost Atlantis
Sunken city asleep
Under pillars of larimars
Plato’s wisdom once bestowed
Untold magic and sacred stones

A surge of madness, whips of rain
Battling down the hull of a boat
From beneath the profound chaos
The Kraken, furious, emerges
The ship is wrecked, turned into dust!

Ocean: When you are awe-ful

A breeze flows, ***** sea gloats!
What a beautiful mess- debris floats
With a quest for vengeance
Opposing swells are relentless
Casting spells on the defenseless

The ocean is endless, it's stupendous
Guarded by deep clouds - tremendous
Dreams drown staring at these clouds
Feels proud, someone from the deep down
A half-asleep Kraken screams loud

Ocean: When you are ritualistic

Fresh and salty energetic waves
Diving the dreamer into a megalopolis
Of scaled goddesses performing a ballet
Invited to a very cruel and festive banquet
Colorful, an aquatic aurora borealis of blood

In which the mythical mermaid sings
Skimming her *******, a pendant of aquamarine
She is Pacific, lustrous and libertine
Her voice enchanting the remotest sea-temple
On the surface, the waters suddenly turned red

Ocean: When you are watery hell

On the horizon, the wide blue yonder scribbled
A storm surge, the dreamer lost urge
Hope purged and dwindled, waves got stained
Silently an atrocious maelstrom wiggled
There the sea-temple stood naked and belittled

Resonating to the sound of an unheard curse
From the inside of the mermaid's purse
An enigma, a blank verse - unfathomable
Making the deep not amicable yet diverse
The ocean is inhabitable still, unnavigable

Written between December 17, 2019 and January 17, 2020
Cc Jordan Rains and cc Appoline Romanens

speak, also you—
the night is cut
and the moon is beheaded;

a mound of silence
collapses,
outlasting the lucid hymnal.
the clinking of glasses,
the guffaw of the gull trilling
  on no cypress.

god has meant locks
   and keys.

chiaroscuro is the form
   of oblivion, river is the voice
   of the dead: the throb of lure-call
  poised at the hollow of the hand,
    this evening.

there is a sadness that is drunk
   with something a lasting recall
   wuthers without a name:
the wayward moon hangs,
  the guillotine of stars
     spreads black blood on the tulip,

drinking as if there is no water,
    only that of wine and something
   that has brought us together,
     separated in the evening

our life, pithless against the wall,
     engraved there, unnavigable writ:
      sundered, washed ashore.

my synchronicity
is out of sync
missed opportunities
each time i blink
if i could keep my eyes wide
with matchsticks
nothing would happen
until the stick snaps
as if magic
the pattern
everything imaginable
at my fingertips
unnavigable
from the backs
of my eyelids

my body and i, we never really had the best past
i would damage her because of the words people said
never first choice, always picked last
i felt so poorly, sometimes i believed that i’d be better off dead
two counselors later, and a few marks on my wrist
my doctors told me to make a list
of all the things i loved about my body
i’d look in the mirror, and my face would twist
i’d start with my eyes, small but stunning
maybe my face? no, it jiggles while running
my scars, how i love and hate them so
they show me where i’ve been, and how much i’ve got to grow
my list would end there
i’m not too fond of laying my emotions bare
the sixteen years i’ve been alive
perfection is the state in which i strive
i realize that while other girls may seem fine
they skip the hours and hurt themselves
to cut down the days they dine
throughout my journey, jumping through doctors
i’ve done nothing but reevaluate and prosper
i am still not content with where i am
but i look good in my jeans and i refuse to give a ****
my sister cries, her eyes stinging
not tears of sadness, she’s just happy to hear me again, talking more and singing
about two months later, the third chair in her office is where i sit
my doctor asked me about the progress of my list
now i look in the mirror and my face still twists
not because i am unhappy with myself
but because it took me so long
more than seven months of being strong
to choose myself over the words people said
i decided to pick up my self hate and put it back on the shelf
because the hurt i inflicted on my mind, body, and soul, was a crime against oneself
my body is beautiful, despite the words of others
and i vow to ALWAYS choose myself over the words of another
but then he came into my life and gave it meaning,
made it feel like i had something to believe in, my face beaming
your feelings being unnavigable,
made me feel like the possibility of us was inconcievable
loving me is the furthest thing from fashionable,
but my hope is that when you read this you’ll be any form of rational
when you see the way i look at you as you walk
or the way i admire how you smile when you talk
i know somwtimes i make it seem like i don’t care,
but when you’re not present, the day becomes a little harder to bear.
from your variations of colors on your size too big hoodies,
to your weeks display of your shoe collection
the thought of seeing you makes me feel secure in the mornings as i stare at my reflection
doubting my worth
“If i do this to my eyelids will he look at me differently?”
or how about i skip lunch and say that at breakfast i had plenty?
but the truth is that nothing will make you see me the way i see you
there’s simply nothing i could do
to you, i’m nothing but a charity
or at least that’s the way i see it
“lemme flirt with the fat girl, let’s see how it goes”
i’m sure your friends love the show, i know they look at you when you walk in the hall with me
“i wonder if she knows?”
of course i do, but the truth is, any form of attention from you is enough to end my day’s streak of blue. i know that you’ll never take my words seriously
and that me sending my assignments is the only reason you keep me around
but when we walk in the hall together, and our arms brush ever so slightly
that single motion stops all sound, the only people in the hallway are you and i, but when we get to our next class and you don’t look at me, i rethink what i did to make you view me differently. was it the way i spoke? did i try too hard?
i probably should have known better than to let down my guard.
five days a week, up to three times a day
that’s the only time i see you
maybe everyday if i’m lucky,
i’ll find some words to say and you can change the direction of my day that’s been blue.
your friends have been kinder,
i’m guessing they feel the end nearing
i mean, how could i have been blinder?
flirting with the fat girl never has meaning
but then you made me feel like the only girl in the world
you came to my doorstep and your true feelings unfurled
he colored me crimson, he colored me rose
i wish it were sweeter, but that’s not how our story goes
your hands around my neck made my breath hitch,
it made my legs go limp, and my fingers twitch
after every quarrel you’d tell me how you loved me so
and that after every match, your love for me would only grow
you broke me, and i called it love
sometimes i’d feel so weak, and question if there was a god above
how could he let this happen to me?
i thought that being a teenager was supposed to be easy.
you left for college and i was left bare
not knowing how my life would go on without you there
i can breathe much clearer and without strain
i’ve set myself free, able to think with my own brain
you are not here to hurt me so, my mind is flourishing and it’s got room to grow
i sometimes wonder if you think of me, or if you’ve got another to make you happy
then, i remember what it was like with you here,
how trapped i was, making myself small and not letting anyone near
your rough hands against my skin made me want to die
now i wear short sleeved shirts, fabric thin,
regretting the time’s i’d let your words make me sit and cry
i love myself now, and i’ve got your absence to thank
for as soon as you left, my slate became blank
i can speak without fear, be bare faced without shame
but i have more therapy now and i’ve got you to blame
four hundred plus miles between us and you still manage to continue to hurt me so
i wish that along with your presence, my feelings for you would go
it should have been sweeter but that’s not how our story goes
i hate and despise you so, but my love for you still grows.
then you came back, said it was a teaching opportunity
you being two years older should’ve opened my eyes, how silly of me.
the lingering looks in the hallways leave me in my next class thinking of all the ways i could make you happy, but my thoughts are cut short when i realize that the only time others see you notice me is when we’re in private, which is never. the lengths i went to just so i could get even the slightest bit of your attention could’ve been classified as a crime against oneself. we’d spend hours on end talking at night, so was it really foolish of me to think that approaching you in the public eye wouldn’t cause you so much fright? you’d tell me to meet you in the lonely hours of the night because you claimed the way you felt when i was with you was the perfect remedy for your depression. so tell me, was it wrong of me to get the “wrong impression”? after the countless hours we’d spend together or was it just some bizzare overfelt therapy session? i’d seen you with another girl, so my suspicions arose. perhaps you liked her therapy sessions more because hers didn’t involve clothes. hours later, you called me, said you needed me, but out of respect for myself i told you that my bedroom window would have to remain closed. every day, it was a different girl, with different stories, but you’d still contact me, why? i know that boys like you enjoy the thrill of it all but what about me? what about the way that i feel? i have to admit, it did hurt when you didn’t call, but that was all the assurance i needed to know that nothing from the past months had been real. there had been a week where you payed me no mind, and the pain that my fragile heart felt was that of the worst kind. i hate you, but i love you so. you’ve pushed me to the best of my limits, and you’ve helped me grow. pretty little senior boy is what i used to say, i’d fall at your feet if you told me to, but you still wouldn’t give me the time of day. pretty little senior boy, was it fun to hurt me so? showing off to your foolish friends, did they enjoy the show? the night of my birthday was the first time we ever truly talked. i liked the sound of your voice and the way you smiled when you walked. i never understood why you chose me. why couldn’t you let me be? i shared my deepest thoughts with you and you blew them off as if they were nothing but miniscule. i was bllinded by your lies and you just left me here, looking like a fool. i’m sorry that i wasn’t enough to make you feel brand new, but after all this time i’ve finally woken up and i refuse to be with someone who makes me feel so blue.
then i lost conciousness, left my mind, body, and soul
sadness had overcome me, it’s taken its toll
haven’t washed my hair in seven days,
my body in three.
i don’t know what’s happening to me.
i can feel myself slipping
i don’t know what to do.
i’ve been feeling like my days are numbered
all i’ve got left is a few
my parents won’t listen to my silent cries for help
they don’t notice how i sit at my window for hours
watching the snow melt
wishing it was me.
one more slip, then none.

some days i just feel so
trapped
like a bird in a cage
with no place to spread it's wings and
fly
like it was meant to
like we were meant to
but instead our consciousness weighs us
down
further with self doubt until we
question
who we really are
inside this unnavigable system that
society
has presented us with.

take a stand,
fight the stereotypes
rid yourself of your cage and be
free.
like you deserve to be.