Before we Meet

There was a review on an orchestra that premiered
halfway                             across the world yesterday.
They called it “rhythmic”, “dynamic”, “melodic”.

Unlike the effortless materialization of imagery
my mind simply could not envision the auditory
beauty of music halfway               across the world.

Much like how it is impossible for me to imagine
the bass undertones cheeky trumpets sneaky triangles
that could perhaps make up the timbre of your tone.

I wonder what sort of orchestra you would present.
Classic? Romantic? Contemporary?
Could you; captivate me?

x.

sigh my work is so rusty I can taste the iron
(can’t wait till post-As!) ❤

Bleed

Stay alive.

Hold on too tightly to allusive
dreams and elusive lovers.

Catch the moon
Collect the clouds
Categorize the stars.

Pavements that trip
you up
will let your knees
shed light.

Lose plight,
take flight.

You are meant to
bleed heartaches
and headaches.

You are meant to be
torn tattered akin to
ripped jeans distressed
masterpiece.

For you
are alive.

****

I promise you:

that this stunning choker
will never let you choke on your words
it will lend you an endless supply of c-c-courage.

that these rugged combat boots
will bring you into battles; Mulan of any ethnicity
you will be brave, bold and beautiful– and brilliant at escape.

such cropped tops, ripped jeans
will show your poor soul that has been through too much
display your scars; lovely warrior- I want your currency to spare.

I promise you too much.
I promise you too little.
I promise you ideals that are really very brittle.

Just tap your **** with loads of zeal
I wonder how you’d feel when you get that bill.

x.

Define Relationship

Less than suffocation
Less than lacking existence
Less than the loss of being one
entity without her.

No, love is not about rosy poetry
sympathetic backgrounds or
appearing metaphors.

It is only about intimacy.
It is only about familiarity.

Finding comfort in the taste of her
lips tongue skin
Finding faith in friction between
lips pinkies eyes

Yes, love is about knowing some
one so well you feel as if
you have nothing left to learn.

It just, is.

x.

Room of Cosmic Walls

There was a room. Much like any other room; it had four walls, a ceiling and a floor.

What made it special was the girl living inside of it, who breathed snowflakes that hung frozen mid-air, spinning. She weaved carpets that were made of clouds and cool air, and played the soundtracks of light summer showers, with singing crickets.

She was a very plain person. With skin of soft clay, hair of black wool, eyes of coal diamonds, and lips of red strawberries. But she painted her walls with the sparkle of the cosmic skies, and in doing that, though wondrous, made her feel so very small.

Small; much like a loose rock in the galaxy.

She floated in her room that no longer had any walls, ceiling or floors. Weightless, restless, zealous — the vastness of the galaxy overwhelmed her. Where would she: human clay, wool, coal, fruit be?

In fact, she was nothing. Nothing important.
Small; much like a loose rock in the galaxy.

At the very least, she was not a rock stuck in a room.

x.

Cyborg I

reinventing yourself
version 12.0 , 13.2 , 14.3.1
layering upon new software upon
upon what you used to be
and like any overloaded system
you lag / you lack
you start to wonder
who you really are or
if you’re spending your entire life
trying to live up to an image
you created
(and keep updating)
for your self.

terminate?

.

.

.

[command cancelled]

for unlike artificial intelligence,
you get confused, and frequently short your circuits
but you also get the consciousness the choice the courage
to fix / to find

you.

x.

we’ve been selling love a long time ago

too expensive to fall in love
which is why i don’t

high-end cafes exotic cappuccinos
lick the 8 dollar froth off her upper lip
romantic or savoring every bit of
expensive taste

let’s maximize profit
get married

this wedding ring might not be the right cut
carat for you but at least you look the part
the right white gown for scarlet green notes
now we are entitled to our own flat

at least
a flat love garners returns

too expensive to fall in love
but if we pretend long enough

we can live high above
out of love.

x.

A Farewell

A harsh hush fell
upon the mahogany
Hard hits on ivory keys
Sharp, isolated sounds
Grinding deep into

the ground

The hollow of the soil
Filled by hours of toil
Unending tour of turmoil

No tears; no beers.

But cheers, crocodile sneers
creeping to cash out

Funerals are the best sort of wind-

falls.

x.

I’ve been indulging in some pretty dark concepts lately… 😛
Anyways, would love to hear your comments on this one!

The Humanity Behind Humility

You think my smile is lovely?
Why don’t you take a second scrutiny
Chapped dryness, uneven alignment
Perfect showcase for the “before”
Of a successful orthodontist
Nah, my smile isn’t lovely.

You think my eyes are shining?
It most probably is the reflection
Fluorescent iridescence bouncing off glass
I can’t see too well, you see
Eyes too small to catch glimmers.

You think my hair looks alive?
What a weird comment
They are made up of dead cells
Split-ends, cheap dye sells
Wait- implying that they look like snakes?

***

Your thinking:
Messed up because who are you to
Dictate that my thoughts are falsehood
Your responses are far too rude
I will think what I would.

Because nobody will remember

The way that you look
We will only consider
The way you made us feel
forcing our kindness back into our throats
say everything we said wasn’t real.

You’re thinking:
That humanity needs humility
When really, what’s the
humanity in humility
after all?

x.

I am Afraid of You.

I.
They say we are attracted to people most like us.
I do believe it to be so.
Perhaps, maybe, somehow,
We end up projecting hopes of a better self

onto other people.
Perhaps, maybe, somehow,
I saw you as honest, kind, alive.

And because of that,
I am afraid of you.

Not the you in the mirror,
Of flaws you hide away
but are aware of,
after all, it’s you

But the you I do not know of;
Perhaps, maybe, somehow,
I saw me in you and thought
maybe you were me
maybe I could be you

Maybe you are none of the above
Perhaps, maybe, somehow–

I am no longer attracted to you
You who hides better than I hide my flaws
You who reveals less than my revealing less
You who projects an image more than I project upon you

Consequently, indefinitely, somehow,
I am afraid of you.

But I will try to forget.

II.
i am afraid because I have poured all of me into you thinking you would be me but i think i have forced you into a my mind’s mould and you have gladly allowed me to do so now i feel like everything about you me us is misleading so why do we continue yet i do know why we continue you make me happy and i like living with illusions and mostly i am afraid because i think you are ruining me with illusions of perfection although we all know it does not exist.

This is trying.

III.
Maybe I can change you; become the projection I projected upon you.

For we are worth trying.

x.