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Why ever do rightness unto another, when distrust is gathered upon you, blanketed by those I once did love? It is you I love, yet it is they I am forced to resent. It is you I am forced to say is the most important essence. That, to go back to a former time, would…
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“Why should art be a thing of chaos, when it is a thing of order? Is it not a creation, revealing order, opposite from a causation that reveals chaos and disorder? This would mean that all art, of emotions, so disorderly, can only become order when they are confined to their place.” – Modern Romanticism…
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Wild,Strewn aboutIn nakedness,Leaving me my own tears,Consuming themIn one banquet of fears.How much hollownessFor how many graves? Love is the only worldThat knows not how to leave,Not how to depart,From my withered mind,DauntingAs a single petal at the edgeOf a broken stem.All I have is one candleTo see my faceIn her own. Love is herself,For…
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How ordinaryYou are,When you lift your headTo see the sun has setBeyond the banks of the ocean’s edgeWhere I have placed my lipsTo swallow its indulgenceTo me. How disciplinedThis fable has become,Outlining your form in the rust.How unwiseYou always were,When disease is your new ease. How many momentsOf your heartAre counted, as beats upon the…
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“It is not society, but himself, who tells the man to remain strong. Though, the toxin as the addiction, whether of alcohol, the injection, the pill, or anger, is simply the disguise around hurt. Pain is always concealed by the addiction. Hurt is always avoided by turning to the addiction. By pretending to be strong,…
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As love,With the subtle breathTo cull the windFrom her heart,With the gentlenessTo conceal the grieving sighsThat bleed out the echoes of goodbyes. Like the summer that never waitedFirmly in the plunging dayTo make the night on her shoulders. Like the winter that forever settledOn her loathing eyes,Forging moments that were never whole. As life,To face…
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Oh, how I have formed youOut of twine for stems,To make of the newest budsYour highest faceWith lips to kiss,With grace to never miss.My eyes are there for you,As your sigh wanders over hills,Believing in wondersWe could not ever kill. We could not ever sweepAll this stabilityFrom our side.We could not erupt volcanoes,Leaving tracesOf blood,…
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Love is the burial Of unkindness, Of my bleeding remorse In the soil. What grows? Who sings Besides her, who sees my swinging Form, in the bringing Of blue upon the deepest seas Of her sadness, To my departure. There is a smile, So deep, and wild, That did leave Me, without breath.
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What a dark face, A pair of black eyes Unfolded into shape. To leave a word in your heart Is to leave a stone in a lake. What can flood That has not already bled? Your form takes, Leaving me to break Like rivers that quit at the bank, Drawn by the wind, Allured by…
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Something dawns, As something lifts The veil from your fractured heart, Laying the kiss Upon two discarded lips, For they did leave you With nothing more to cover you, Until the vows were made. As I can For I have done All to wake this smile In the bright sun of the morning.
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Blackened By the fertile memories Sprouting aches From each side of you, Even if I can undo The troubles that gleam In your porcelain heart. For your sadness Is a mere longing To have something That never leaves Like the rapid heartbeat That echoes off surrounding sides.
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I cannot but Hold onto Your heart, in the dirt, Where your failures are swimming. Your tears Are gathered in my warm arms, For I will drift the sunset To its opposite end That you will rise from the rust, That you could no longer take shelter In the silent dust.
Modern Romanticism 