With Reckless Abandon

All things that would catch me,

All things that would make me sleep,
All things that love me;

I irritate them with daydreams
Of things I’m scared of while I’m
Awake,
passing time like I’ve got a lifetime
Or two,
Floating away to where I’m
Not used to.

I’m a stranger to the familiar,
The recklessness of doing something
Not you,
Or close to,
Trying to live a life of seven plus
Two more days of catching
The blues,
I reckon

I’d live a day not knowing myself,
That knowing me right before life
Starts
Right before the stars were made,
Right before living itself.

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Orange Tongue

You smell like the earth after a rainfall. The undying musk of thirst escaping from the versions of soil I’ve walked on. My feet is pressing severely over the dull grass blades of words, above the soil with the drought underneath. It hurt. I haven’t told you before that your eyes are not your windows, but the gardens you care less. I can see the vines crawling upward, swallowing you whole, the weeds, strangling the flowers, smothering them as if their love won’t hurt. It did. I just sat with you, looking at the living things, at the visions you live with. I couldn’t come through, fall through. I thirst.

You sound like the sea in the middle of the sunset. The eventide running on the other side of you. cutting the sky in half, cutting you. You sound the same. The calm before a colossal roar that can destroy a city by the sea. A hungry wave, lonely, consuming. The warmth never left. Never came. The promises manifested as sea foam in your mouth. It never went through. I can see your insides, like the water, you were clear,but hollow.

You wished for answers like why does summer rests and winter pays a visit. Why the brittle cold would overstep its welcome, while the other heat left. Not remembering the citrus, the sourness, the stinging sensation to a wound of cut lemons and sharp silences. Not remembering the order of seasons, just days upon days of spring.

You forget. The cold will pass its biting, soon. the smell of hot earth and soil will resonate you again on the living walls. And me in memories. I left for summer to come again.

 

The Time When My Brother Cut His Hair

I was with my brother
when he went to cut his
hair

I knew then that change
is like a drunken mess,
playing with the time
of hesitations
sun that was appallingly
hot,
daze was turning the
tables

I was with my brother
when he went to cut his 
hair

I was watching him walk,
slowly, taking his strides
like a carbonated drink
during summer,
each step savored,
while I cling to Ahvie,
while I walk
my road to apathy

I was with my brother
when he went to cut his 
hair

I was looking at the pinstripes
of his white shirt, pristine
and parallel,
as his hair lopped along with
gravity, taking its last
ride on my brother’s head

I was with my brother
when he went to cut his 
hair

he looked relaxed and yet
the world is on his shoulders
and I was morose, floating
in conversations
but I’m elsewhere

I was with my brother
when he went to cut his 
hair

He was silent, while they
changed him,
while I  was covered
with the backs of the muses
I didn’t hold his hand,
because I was gripping
myself from
falling apart

I was with my brother
when he went to cut his
hair

The strands fall on my thoughts
the pull of the sounds,
i’m delusional I said, as I sat on
the divan
looking outside, while people
mumble around me
of how things should cope
with wasted minutes

I was with my brother
when he went to cut his 
hair

and I saw him, less of who
he was,
more than who he really
is,
and as he stood I watched
my brother travel worlds
in his eyes,
silence to his lips
turned ships to the dock

I was with my brother
when he went to cut his
hair

and I was wishing,
beseeching, that I could
clip,redeem, my way
to forgiving myself
to walking alone
to denying the
turns

I was with my brother
when the went to cut his
hair

My Love, This is My Lullaby

 

 

Hear my heart sing your

song, let me caress your

soul with my voice

my love, Your body didn’t

come back to me, but your

memory stayed here

with me…

 

and I am welcoming you

like nothing ever happened,

like I just woke up,

a part of your daily existence,

in which we spell our dreams

on our breakfast tables …

 

Leaving small notes on each other’s

pockets, raindrops on window panes

Let my hands do all the phrases

that I want to say but couldn’t

because my desires are trapped

in this cage, and only my touch

can let it escape to your veins..

 

Love, listen to our own beating,

I know you are half way around

the world, where pretty lights

were born, but, don’t be deaf

by the sights you are seeing

and listen patiently to my

lullaby..

 

My love, please figure out

that , a thousand miles from

me seems like a lonely place,

and rush back to my side,

as you promise me your forever,

like I will , and always do whenever

I talk to your picture on my mind…

 

My love, I miss you so much,

my spirit has kept a piece of you

now you’re incomplete,

for I have your eyes, your

lips that never fails to give me

the sweetest words the world

could ever muster…

 

My love, even if you’re away

and I know nothing has changed

that you’re away from the start of

our argument…but I’m still not

prepare to beat to someone else’s

drum…I don’t want to say

what I have said months ago

I can’t lose you I can’t….

 

 

My love….

please come back..

I’m done pretending…

 

 

The Monster is In

I’ve been wearing this mask

far too long, to even realize

that I’m letting myself melt

with all the pretensions I made

while I face the world as someone

who can never be moved. ..

I am a silent irony, preaching to

believe in one’s self when even I

can’t swallow my imperfections and

instead , I bury my head deeper

to this mask to hide what I don’t

want people to see

I married the skeleton in my

closet, whispering him to shush

about the things that we’ve been

keeping to ourselves and asked him

to sustain me until  I cannot see the

the root to where all the lies began..

So,  the world loves me, while I walk

on burning coals with the truth beneath

my feet, and I’ll fail all hopes when it

comes to coming clean, because I choose

to hail the monster living at my core,

than to really see that I can do anything

without pretending that I cannot……