Writing
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“I reckon it’s the same as sleep, that to wait for it, with deliberate intent, makes it never arrive. How can patience be the thing for a dream, for a reality in the making of art, when it recreates itself into frustration? Believing ourselves to be Creators, will always make the waiting kind, when we…
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Hold your tempest closeAs the words come downTo your tiny, pink lips.I hold the sentence a foot from my heart,Swearing my love for youIn your dirt, where showers are guestedFor your forgotten face, to the world. My love owns gravity,Placing dreams where onceWas mere stars,Into realityAs life spawns from the absent womb,While strife leans free…
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“It is love, overwritten by the importance of trust, that we say the former might die, while buried alive. For we are to trust the one we reveal all of ourselves to, making love merely the buried background of a sun that warms our backs. We do not see love, yet we feel it. Though,…
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ForgivenessIs the onset to a beating heartThat through the shouting voice,Still remains so red.No diminishment,Nothing extinguishedOf the surface, where I place my handTo hold that whichI know is the fullest you. For I forgive youUpon matters, that would only igniteFlames that could be only fanned,Upon the triviality of a shouting voice,Upon the battering of hands…
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What lies beneath the heartbreak,Besides that which never silences?Not the beats that showerAs the storm, with the drumming thunder,Not the cries from an outspoken HeavenWhere you reside, for the shiftingOf my stirring eyes,As I might search for places to hide. What lies beneath the chestOf any, where cruelty blankets the memoriesShrouding each step, beyond?What sickness…
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Wash me,Undress youTo curves that rival the Earth,For lips of mineStained by red of your moving mouth,Leaving words to runDown my barren throat. Like falls that are unifiedFrom the starkest division,Of your fingers through the curtainsOf your fragrant tresses,Like the stillness of unmoving bloodCan become the running tides,The echoing flood.For I consumeEach droplet of each…
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What is lostBesides the shadowsOn the waves of our light,Above oceans so thinWaking ourselves, from within? We have fought the firesWith the tears from our eyes,Singing praisesWith our gazes,Sending signals to planets, unknownBy the ocean to each velvet moonThat commend their sobering parent. Your heatIs a resemblanceOf what drowns the wavesIn the leaks of my…
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Symmetry dancesOn the broken frame of your outline,While sides always attractTo form different centers,Where I may place my feet,Catered to you,Gathered beneath the branches,Held by youIn unfurled twineTo make the circle so divine. Perfection is the cessationOf negligence, to your surroundings.I can draw a map to save the world,Though the oceanWould merely allow lines to…
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To noteSimplistic punishment,Rising from sadness, buriedOf your eyes to see a glimpseTo be all you need,Of a smileThat can warm youFor the needed while. I start to make the bed for you,Begin to dress the table for youThat you might begin to singAll the tunes of that once understoodAnd missing delight. I wed you, without…
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Holding your hopes,Gathered like thunder.Holding your heights,Wishful to forever.Making peace with the darknessOutside of you,That I might be near to youIn lasting caress. Wishing for night to close itselfUpon the darkest eye,Holding sentences upon a plate,Merging words to a second state,And crushing feathersWhere should be rocks. You awakenTo a morning of no sunrise,For I stare,And…
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Loosen your crown,To awaken without a frown.Leave alone the waves,That you might not breakWith form against the rocks,With eyes against the clockOf your splitting life. Folding youIn my mind, where currentsCannot hide.Not from the spacesWhere they reside.Twin worlds apartRefrain from bending to the dark. Little beats of a solaced heart,Like tears that petal downTo make…
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Beneath dark leaves,Above washing soilWhere rain never reached,Leaving seeds to never sproutHigh enough to reach Heaven,For I can see green, where should be blue,As I can see the red of my hands,Finding a heart, that never knew. I carve a spot into a rockTo silence the flow of a singular tear,For its landfall would never…
Modern Romanticism 