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“Written in the ways of purism, is the idea that one blood is inferior, or lacking in quality, over another. To base politics around race, around gender, around creed, is to recede to the aristocracy mentality, though swapped. It is to say that impurity is purity. Perhaps it is that we are all the same,…
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About slendernessTo a finger marred by aches.She shiesJust a second away from my lips.A stain matches her glanceUpon my cheek.One tearFalls as the descending bird,With no wings for flight.All I wantIs to fall in her clasp. Just a moment awayFrom when the priest saysIt is time to kiss.Just a moment,Until I can kill away this…
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Can you breathe,Dear one?The ocean seems to have been wrappedIn a stormOf your making.Can you calm,Dear one?Can you see the fallen dropletsThat exit from a pair of eyes,Like hanging from the shortest piece of rope? Just a bucketTo a wellOf where your sadnessHas its origin. Your handsFeed the line,Down to where your heart resides,Down to…
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To be stagnantIs my placeUpon, as you are absent.My work goes undone,As my days run byMiserable watersBetween my fingers. You could look at me,At the aching manWho does not truly stand.You could mockThe he who never dares to shockThe rest of the veins, in his form,While blood never flows freely. Just a pieceOf the advice…
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Count scars,Limitless as stars.Count truthWhole enough to be broken,As bread is consumed,Chewed,Digested,Not like the lieSo easily swallowed.A broken truthWas once, in preparation,A wholeness. A broken form,BeatenUntil bloody,Is always the truth, reborn,Though neverIn the eyes of who broke it. Would ChristBreak the truth,As he broke bread,As he gave wine?Broken bread, as beaten flesh,Drunken wine, as streaming…
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Just a wellTo dump the contentsOf her eyes.Deep blue as Neptune’s children,AwakenedAs puling infants,Close to no mother,Close to no otherBut the cruel hands of a Father,Of God’s sheltering darkness.For sheCan swear He created Hell. Water the cries,To water them, more.Water the lilies, upon the current to the brook,Draped as curtainsOver the stepping stone.She has lost…
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I am not about to stareFor too long.Your long hairHang like the dropping tearsI have sworn were the place of my bathing.Your faceIs the stolen aspect of an angelDescended to my arms.Did God erase you,That He might see you for me? I hold a kingdomTo your rose,A dream that ignites the restOf the future’s caress.Your…
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She stood there,With cold, wet hair,Like none other than another winterGone fiercely.Through the moon’s many faces,Blankness remainsTo remind meOf a few captured momentsHovering beneath time,Drifting between space. She stands thereTo sharpest melodiesOf her groansIn sheerest grief.Just a daffodilIn a simmering summer’s night,Though never received the warmthOf an aching sun. She was dried againstHer own petals,Using…
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“Racism is to say a person is comparable to the rest, because they could never be contrasted from the rest.” – Modern Romanticism
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“If human reason questions, then human love will define. Love will make the surety, that reason will tear down. Love will make the truth, the wholeness, the clarity, that reason will say is a lie, only fragments, the uncertainty. What is a human, in a scientific world, if not the confused one on the search…
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“I cannot help but to love what I have found. A heart. Hers. It would remain isolated, without a branded kiss. I leech my own, through the vessels that remain upon my discovery. I am the sailor who throws himself overboard. I cannot love myself, not for a moment. I sacrifice myself, to see her…
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Hold on, dear,To the waters,To the densityOf your eyes in the universe.Stars leak from your void,For you have lost much,As stars wander from your gaze,For you believe you are drowning. Hold on, my love,The rain is never-ending,As we must hold on. Believe in this,My hands tremble,Though they hold, tightly. Believe I can do it,Love,As my…
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