Writing
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There’s a line to drawon bottomless quicksand,to remind ourselvesof a space to retreat,when pain cannotbring us lower.We must cross it,seeking shelter undera different settingwhere sunlighthas erupted betweenthunderclouds.We must not sink,when we always thinkwe can returnthe light to a void,life back to allwe couldn’t avoid.Escaping from secondswe’ve been turninginto those infinite infinities,when we numbedour twisted fingersto…
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A space had opened,as your feet were broughtdown into an expanse,of murderous, cold water.What can I doother than watchyour form, going underboth rapids and wilderness?I had begun to burya heart into a plotof protected earth.I had begun to concealpainful memories,drawn beautifully.I had begun to fleewhere our stormswere gathering.You were always wantingto pull that plugto recreate…
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It was a black image,wide in its deep serenity.It was an arrowpiercing a forlorn heart,finding that answerI’d never again question.It was a blindnessencompassing two eyes.It had its own storms,bringing on its dosageof bitterness, of uncertaintywhere hands are strivingto remain clean.Love is that essenceto create, to recreatewithout clear depiction,forming shapelessnessin infinite twists.Love is that forcethat forces…
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Seating yourselfacross from me,always well awayfrom hope’s pendulum’seternal sway.You are distancingyour heart, your hopeto find belongingamong dead angels.What a directionto find yourself,in the wind, as identicalto what breath you release.You have exposed the flesh,beneath the featherson your wings.You have waited yearsto fear nothingat the end of a knot.Your neck is whatcan be kissed, while yourthroat…
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A shadow has been extending from a motionless figure. How long has it been going for? How long has she been seated there, counting leaves that descend due to meeting their time? In the corporeal world, it has been a mere minute. But in her mind, her presence in this position, this stagnation, has been…
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If it wasn’t enough tocontinue currents,with no desire tointerrupt rainfall,we chose to drownour faces, in eachother’s arms.We chose to see darkness,burning when we couldn’tfind water to dipour red-rimmed eyes.We chose to never speak,silencing all sounds,before they were everpresent on our lips.Our prayers, our hopeswere given to the dead.Our letters, our promiseshad travelled, had led,had transformedinto…
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Our frozen expressionsturn to the clouds, for harmony.Within them, we are viewingthe kind of sensationwe have grown to expect.Droplets of remorseremain intact, only whenthey’ll not turn to tears,continuing to stayas permanent smears.To clouds of greyin the anguish we relive,thunder never emergesas light for our path.We still cling to tomorrowlike a curtain to concealall connective sorrow.Hope…
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Stepping througha portal, into your world,erasing tears, before theyever find meaningin your eyes.I’ll rewrite whathas left itselfas the letters, the stainson your heart of hearts,where sheer vacancyhas moved in.I’ll bring aboutwhat you’ve forgotten,while you’ve beenhelping your mind todespair and disaster,sickness and disrepair.To pain, to those stains,there’s much that a kisscan continue to do,as I am…
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Tempting one,turn your eyes towardsthe one, just the onewho will carve your eleganceinto pages of memory.Gifting one,build with me a scenewhere eyes are never sad,where face remainnever distant, always glad.I will marvelat the void I’ve filledwith all your ivory.A blackness hasembraced its enemy.A bleakness willcontinue to fill itselfwith the green, from allwe will keep from…
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Returning to shelter,to rediscover our shadows,exhausting all possibilityto feel the breathof springtime, to seestreams of lightthrough the cracks.For all this time,we’ve deprived our eyesfrom opening upto different scenery.All this darknessblends in with our flesh,as millions of snowflakesconceal our roads.We’re never awareof wherever else that weever dreamed of,under hazing moonlight,during warming summers.It is merelythe simplest normalcyto…
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I have been readingthose golden wordspainted ontoa silver heart,studying the occasionwhen I can statethat nothing herewill ever fade.I am been rethinkingwhat moment I will undocemented memories.I have been consideringthat I cannot simplybe blind to blinding light.It was often the final notethat played on fragile heartstringsthat compelled me to weepuntil I fell asleep.It is now where…
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Hope is a rose,peeling its petals, emptyuntil exhaustion providesthe rush, the gustturning a clock’s handsuntil that final graincompletes the shore.Wide, with expansivebarrenness, in its whitecanvas-like presence.What might I be ableto draw with theseheated fingertips?What might I ever wantwhen light rises fromcherished horizons?Drinking the sadnessinto suffocation,as I rub these eyes,from collected,unwanted residue.You are still hereto sink…
Modern Romanticism 