Writing
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Thickening rust,under a thousand flakesof flavorless dust.Counting those fallen leaves,while holding handswith a vanishing ghost.When were we ever meantto unite our silver pictures?Gold had become grayin this absence of day.I had been that closeto keeping you close,though you kept burningyour colors, into monochrome.Light had been weatheredthrough a shroud,a brittle frame.Concealed, while connectedin a place where…
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What’s there to saywhen all I do is surrender?When I’m upon these knees,praying to a lost deity,life resides in these stones,as pain bleeds close.Shadows kissa smoldering slabof embittered coal.Futures are amiss,as these hands are toilingwhere sweat is boiling.I am remainingin a room full of thunder.While other have wings,I have an anchorto drag from a skeleton.While…
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Connecting eyes,resurrecting our disguise.Letting us downwith droplets of raincarving ripples around.Release your smoketo trail backwards,allowing memoriesto build that boat,sinking on a passage.We come down,imprinting ourselvesin each other’s skin.Release your words,walking them forward,disallowing tragediesfrom suffocatingour embrace into fever.We’ve brought aroundlayer after countless layers,pulling folds close.Is this something to shelter?Are these moments somethingto let us through,always into…
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“Imagination is restricted to a world or an environment. Our world can be sculpted into anything, though it’s all interactable. How did that world become sculpted, without human interaction? A human imagined something after they interpreted it. A tree, not created by humans, though by nature, became involved in imaginative, fictional works, after interpretation.” –…
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I dare saythat you have beenavoiding this lash.You are runningfrom your own leash.What did they teach you?Embedded, like stainsthat are adorning you,beneath your eyes.How did they greet you?You are mourningwith time’s limited shelter,while I’ve been waiting.To shadows, your mentorsthat are identified as memoriesbeing multiple as countless,beautified agonies.What were those moments for?You are leaving me,with infinite…
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That song upon that mile,that face, that decorated smilereveals this weather upon this visagebeing stirred in your glance.Rain comes to leak through shelter,our arms in an immediate dance.Pain gets relieved, light is conceivedwhen lips eventually interact.We speak, we ignite flamewhen night wraps us in shadow -a frame for no thought,lest we should be broughtoutside our…
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I could tellwhen we first fellin love, from above,to those layers,being upon kneeswith fragile prayers.Tempting fatethrough a blank slate.Our fingers tendedto wounds, to be mendedbefore we were hurt.We’ve always knownwhere gleams from bloodwere to be shown.Enemies for eternity,damaged without serenity.What more will follow?What more will flowfrom these open veins?Having a lifetime to go,with names for…
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I cannot consideranother like yourself,as all else I’m seeingare moss-covered headstones,with either rain or weatheringdrawing lines,down their shape. Other than you,whoever should be?Other than us,what essence could seemore than what we are, while holding skin this close,under bedsheets, enclosed? If you leave,I’ll trace your namein infinite sands,upon swaying lands,quaking earth.This heart will not bemerciful to…
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What we foundwas that cliff,to rinse our handsof our memories,when we were blendinghopes with tragedies.Reusing loveas something we can givefrom hearts made of stone,though we were weathereddown to the bone.Remembering lightto blind our feeding eyes.We blossomed romance,from cupped hands,drinking our diseaseof catastrophe and unease.A split, a universal shiftto a place where tears run down.Like sweating…
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“A group or a collective is a simplified complexity. What else could be complex, other than the individual? Among society, people are labelled, generalized, and made simple. But that’s society, where groups of various sizes exist. What could be more complicated than an individual, who takes time to understand?” – Modern Romanticism There had been…
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Little was knownabout two worlds, centeredinto incomparable unity.They’ve loved with broken hearts,inside a fractured cageof shaded porcelain,while their eyesfelt all things in that urgeto protect their words.Their promisethat would becometheir failure,a little thingtoo little knownabout the two.Kisses were ample,while stares became fatalin viewing an apocalyptic,changeable landscapebrought to ruin,from love’s blanketing fate.Who could guesswhen their knotted…
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“What person feels, if not to identify? An empathetic soul is an intimate one. There is no such thing as a loose expression of empathy. One may lose themselves, their own lonesome identification, as a sacrifice when peering too far into someone else’s anguish. That empathetic soul felt too much, not of themselves, though of…
Modern Romanticism 