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Keeping here,painted in smears,letting goof teardrops from a moonwhose face is that of a silver trace,whose presence waitsfor another night, seeing me, unanswered. Broken song.A wail from a throat,and in the reiterating of speech, I repeat what I thoughtwas never said, was never repeated, was never saidwhen we were never wed. It was said,a long…
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Position defeatjust outside of reach,for you to prolongyour decline,for you to drag outwhat youhave underlined. On a shoreline,burning from a sunset,its sand as one color,you are wandering. From a skyline,from your journeyto pilot desertion,you’re here too long. Tragedy has becomeyour songsto lull yourselfto a non-lethal sleep. Vacancy has wonyour heart,beating just to bea white noise.…
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I’m too adriftto be given grace,to be alloweda single secondof space. For I want to redrawwhat won’t berevived for me. It’s just a signof loudestdesperation. I could wailwith these sails,burning in windsthat cut skintoo looseto be attachedto this form. I’m driving this rainflooding these decks,left to rotin a startled heart. Terrified eyes,rushing cheeksare representingthe sudden…
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Light shinesthrough tearstainedgaps betweenyour fingers. You’ve once risen,just to playlike a child,this time in ashes. In them,you can recountwhat you lost,when the sandsare too infinite. Without them,you are the dust,a single flakedescended froma ravaged Heaven. You’ve cut tieswith the shifts,to forge the rifts,outside the purityin life’s unpredictability. You’ve foldedyour form,from front to back,injecting scarlet secretsin…
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It happens,in simple moves,for complex wants. When the dirtburies your eyes,could you still see? Can you believethe lengthof such wounds,some mortal,others minor. You burn throughthe pagesto get to the end,where your ghostthrashes about,without limbs. This fear compelsyour ambitionto elevatethe blood,the flood. This state determinesyour anticipationover the yearsthat followfrom below.
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It’s the rebellious artist who rejects form. It’s the rebellious artist who asks, “Why do we need rules?” It’s the rebellious artist who believes that boundless freedom can be the catalyst for countless avenues for creativity to flow. What makes an image not a complex mess is what it specifically means. A white canvas remaining…
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Left to dreaminside a colorless void,empty as daylight’s ghost.It is bitter,without the resolveI had hoped was thereto greet me. Branching pathwayscould bring mein reverse,or sideways. I’ll remain here,as still as the secondI have caught,reflected in a teardrop. I’ll be amongwhat othershave laid to rest,drying outin the earth,denying destinations,deciding oncrude resignation. Life is the retellingfrom different…
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Brutal timelineof a storyleft razor sharpon a cliff’s edge. You sunderwhat leftoverburning hope there isfor a paradiseto be built. What a lifeyou’ve restrained,bleeding cutsinto floods,turning honestyover closed eyelids. You kneelin a clogged avenue,ample with yearningto become someonewithout vacancy. To fulfill some setof bold words,to bring to flamea rekindled passion,go to deraila train packedwith unmentioned,unneeded doubt.
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Bold formationof you,in the ivory. I’ve been blamingthe onefor this vision. I’ve lost faithin the present,conditioning myselfto see starsduring daylight hours. I want backwhat I’ve knownwouldn’t last,once your lifewas fatedfor another haventhan my arms. Heaven was betterfor you,leaving the Hellthat broke your flesh. Salvation should bea warm certaintyfor almost everyone. Am I among thosewho are…
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Future revisionscan’t drag forwardour glow,not until history’sburning pagesare forgiven. No brand newspeech of our dayscan erase what harmbroke our mindsinto the pieceswe still collect. Looking down,we remaindropping the samerebirthed weight. Looking up,clouds are formingfor their monochromatic,state of disdain. We’re findingthat we’ve not stoppedour surge, our drifttowards a lighthousewe imagined. A slate can’t be cleaned,an ocean…
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It hands outwhat you whisper for.You hang onthroughout your breaths,until you’re revealingthe wounds,those you sealedas thin cracks. Round stretchesof pale skin.Depleted fleshthat hangs loosefor ongoingurgency. You’re starvingfor safetyamong suchlowest scenes. You’re damagingthe sole connection,the one roadback to reality. There’s this nakedphenomenon.It forges your loyaltytowards the pastwith all itsscattered highways. The one routeis the lone pathwayfor…
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Remedying hesitationwith rising smokefor nostrils,those that barelyever breathed. While wedwelled on safetywithin limits,we weren’t drinkinga forgotten truth. There’s no warmthfrom seeing what falls,from up close. There’s brisk airto take in,when the earth quakes. From embersthat liquifya current tragedy.From faceswe once knewto ease our despair. There’s a lessonto build with,once we inhalea memoryto be kept near,until…
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It ripples,within merciful,forcefulfinality. It angles,inside asymmetrical,distortedsanctity. The death,that neither of us,wanted to seecome to lifehas dawned. The decisionto let you leavehad been hurtingthe part of usstill hoping. I denywhat’s shifted meinto a sidewaysfit of ridicule. Could Ihave stopped death,before it,on its ashen wings,came aboard? I revisethe lettersI’ve long tossedinto an ocean.
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