endless drives,
the first station to the right,
I’m not the same person I was months ago.
Careless and naive.
I’m no longer stuck in limbo,
o r too miserable to speak
My inner soul no longer claustrophobic
I am the narrator, cheers to my youth
And my darkest hour.
Flash point

- G

the love in our palms preserving,
are colours of red, blue, and grey
the sea breeze soothing but distant
-
the summer in the present
praying
to flourish  honey so rich to wash away difficulty
-
slowly the heart is beating
the sky's
tell the truth
and your eyes
tell me something else

- G

you've seen me face identities
that seem seductive,
that there was little time to retreat into an haunting
image,
but an urge for the past has came back
asking for
larger vows
that question every knock on an empty
room
"but winter is cold," and the warmth of the sun
is once again left me behind
a non ordinary
crisis

- G

the
secrets are happening over unpaved floors,
the summer goodbye, the lovers that were only fantasies in a leviathan envy -
that I pretended to be a melted oath
caught between thunder and rain,  but "I'm trying to get
myself together" because
I exist and you are a  
"outspoken
downtown whirlpool"
lost in the smoke from the hookah lounge next door,
being insightful about "our" butterfly effect
being better

- G

the crystal faith you praise
is fractured with dysphoria
that two years from now you won't be able to distinguish my beauty
and we'll fall apart into
a open concept of bigger questions (hydroxide pause) and then my scenery
will be vivid and fluently spoken towards repeated
images and small - town secrets
of surprise but tomorrow isn't sunny,
the damage
has already begun

- G

you are unsure of the moment
of when you dreamed of cotton candy clouds and
God, asking for another chance to spiral
but you've been through lifetimes of "wonderful rehearsals of a blooming blackberry bush"
that its become revenant,
a persuasiveness of another trustful lilac that your life
will never been a desirable garden but you've found
a diagnosis to lose all the highway
sighs, "provoking the past and
present"

- G

the part one analysis has felt a
heavy globe "a sad blue tone of being salutary
when the mind
thinks nothing is reasonable"
because you've committed sins behind the butterflies wings
and when I die
part two will operate a revolutionized spring that
no one has ever seen, but
part three is drifting not listening, to your mother and father
yet you are locked without a well preserved
theraputical rose
that only rises when someone mentions to exfoliant her
soft skin  

- G