Tag Archives: bloom

rusty mailbox

you’ve got that

american blue in the very pits

of your iris,

and sometimes it feels

almost electric

but i know i’ll just end up

with a black eye if i

keep on staring

i’m not usually this brand of rude

but i can’t help it

if i’m cliché suckered

by that beach-at-early-gentle-dusk

kind of blond,

figure i could still taste

sea salt in my throat if i inhaled

hard enough

maybe you’re afloat

waiting for

a false breakwater romance

drowning siren song

with a hateful kinda endearment

and speaking of

you hate sports and my visual arts

but you like virtuous

green heroes

and staying up for 38 hours

and i like monochrome serial shows

and the number of

sweets i could still spell out

if i threw your full name

in an anagram machine and let it

run wild, here’s one:

cotton candy

maybe that’s no fun for you

don’t worry, it’s no fun

for me either

but it’s always fun to dream a bit

afternoon stargazing

spitting grey fur

overthinking about it some more

buttercup, that’s not one

but i quite like it pinned on your hair

if you won’t mind

i don’t live near a garden

but we could always find some way

or another

to quote a reference

for something

you probably don’t listen to—or do you?—

i’m never gonna see it

all in bloom

because now

it’s almost late spring

(summer ’round my axis)

and not fantasy football season

and i think i love you

all the same

so maybe i’ll just stretch

out my stiff spine

write a generic letter with no

return address

and turn the unplugged television on

just to see how it all

pans out.

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Filed under Poetry

terraria

autumn leaves

and nothingness

seasonal escapade

ache more for less

.

hills that whisper

junipers without whim

love without living

wounds without skin

.

mental imposter

corrupted serenity

flimsy enclosures

where art humanity

.

mountains that shake

hellebores without bloom

live without loving

oxygen unconsumed.

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Filed under Poetry

(please never) bloom again

i find myself thinking about it

the tiny pieces that build up

each sleight of anonymity that

outlined the subtle secrets

in your unrelenting stargaze

.

and a watered-down kind of

“i-promise-never-to-tell”

.

a hint; of chamomile attraction

.

but send my best to sunshine state

because i’ll never be there to

share a drink or name with you

i’ll smoke my fantasies out instead

.

so why not just give way, like the

empty ground beneath my feet

my self-esteem tastes of

stale breath mints and no one’s

sloppy seconds, but it looks

fine from a distance—it virtually

looks like nothing next to all

.

of the tiny pieces that you picked

out of your rancid heart and

unknowingly lodged right in between

my throat, just so i would mean it

.

when i promised never to tell.

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Filed under Poetry

Florist

I want more flowers in my arms

But I’ve run out of space to plant

My handy trowel’s sharpened up

The sun in my eyes has gone dark

.

I will plant more flowers in my skin

I still have my endless secret garden

Asters, poinsettias, roses, carnations

Bloom as I wilt, until the next season.

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Filed under Poetry

Okinawa (Taking The Long Way Home)

Hopeless; soft sigh of my shamelessness

Almost anechoic now, rather hurting your

Perfect prelude as you cross nocturnes into

Plaques of deception, I crave the vicious way

You crept under my closed eyelids and let my

.

Bloodstream clog up with letters of your name

Infected and depleted, frantic and lovesick like

Redbones and restless sentiments as I befall back

To the insomniac midnight runs that broke in my

Head like it was just another swollen, gaping scab

Daring me to pick at it, to pick it up, to pick you out

And spill my thoughts all over the ceiling’s leaky holes

Yes, you are and will be the only one, begotten wonderer

.

Arrogances forsaken—! I vehemently collide directly into

Never, never again, never yours, never there, never more

Distal anoxia, stiffly reaching out, these hands—fractured

Your staccato rings out to alarm the wolves, for I am to your

.

Carrion as you are to my crudely-preserved trophy head displayed

Iridescent phantom may you be yet afterlife barely transpired, just a

Zeitgeist fleeing the tides under the midst of November’s temper bloom

Enamoured harshly to your facsimiles and facades and fastidious blues

Keeping worn-down stars in my pocket for another year lost again to you.

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Filed under Poetry

somewhere in balington drive

you’re every

city street

i picked tender

flowers out from

the ones that

bloomed from

the footsteps

you left behind

on rough pavement

as sodium lights

slept and doors

closed to the rhythm

of a hypnogogic

reverie—hush

but not quite still

silhouettes shifted

bodies left imprints

some alleyways

left a window open

for latecomers

and lost stragglers

and outsiders

i being one of them

but there are no

open anythings for me

only the bitter taste

of neon grey and

a last-minute wave

as you held your breath

and the flowers fell

from my shaky grasp

but there was no one

else around to pick

them back up

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Filed under Poetry

Colourblind Memory

And when I see you
I really see you upside-down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around
If you feel discouraged
That there’s a lack of color here…

~*~

It was an easy kind of self-destruction; the one I never had to beg for.

After a few nights of staying awake and listening to cheaply-constructed songs on the static radio, I was already haunted. Copper chain links that stabbed at the fictional horizon and left unstitched scars on the exposed wind. Shy vespertine flowers that bloomed in the most coruscant spectrums, but only when no weeping eye was there to witness their exquisite grandeur and compose concerto symphonies about it. An infinite, arrogant, wakeless kind of blue that rivaled every transatlantic and pacific direction that I chased; but, unlike the oceans of this planet so drenched and cold and jaded to the bone, no one is ever able to cross it, and no one ever will.

And violet. A damnable shade, akin to roses-not-reds and forget-me-nots, that violet. A bleeding, dirty kind of violet that left filthy, undecipherable Roschach stains everywhere. Splattering the bruises of my halted tongue, shading the asphyxiation of my untouched lips, violently overtaking the rock-steady sorry secret that was divulged and diluted all too late. It painted a tragedy that only the most damaged and paranoid artists could understand, and rending shreds of the purest agony down my colliding ribs that not even the most genius maestros and starving dilettantes could begin to dissect; for it was a foreign anatomy. A different unknown. A beyond the beyond. It was brutally twisted inside my veins and gauchely discarded somewhere in between sense and sanctuary, photographed and arrested in another postcard vintage lie. I could write graphite letters at the back all I want, but I’ll never swim away from the indigo waves in front. It was our holiday memory, drowning me again and again and again.

Absolutely useless. It couldn’t aid my breathing. It couldn’t save my sleeping. It was a disease that was highly susceptible only to my atrophied words and comatosed syllogisms—the same unfortunate ones that are now leaving my chafed fingers but never my wornout mind, like you, like you, like you.

Unrelenting. Unsuspending. Unending.

All my colours were inverted. And no one can turn it back the right way.

If there even was one.

~*~

Please don’t worry, lover
It’s really bursting at the seams
For absorbing everything
The spectrum’s A to Z
This is fact, not fiction
For the first time in years…

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Filed under Prose

Spares

in x’s and o’s

and little shows

and softness that

makes me shiver

.

the bloom is sent

directly to my heart

like a vital sign

and verdancy delivered

.

in you’s and why’s

and quaint smiles nice

you’re a taker, not a giver

.

but when i’m left

with nothing else,

i find that you always

have something

for me left over.

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Filed under Poetry

blood red, snow white

Wake up in a dream, frozen fear
All your hands on me
I can’t scream, I can’t scream, I can’t escape
The twisted way you think of me
I feel you in my dreams, and I don’t sleep…

~*~

vivid red, the camellias were

in full bloom today,

lush petals on a pillowed heart

.

i was finding my way

to return from tepid tides

breaking away from venus light.

.

are you hiding your needles?

From which i used to attract the

sovereign flies with, fettered

.

among suspicious hostile twitches

and pulled-off moth wings

decaying with secrets in the kitchen cabinet

.

i do not deserve absolution.

I deserve punishment and jealousy

patched upon each humilified aphorism

.

i am no longer concerned if i have

already bled out, or breathed in,

or both. or perhaps none.

.

but i am fairly certain of the

fingernail scars, tracing louvre patterns and

loveless artwork all over my arms

.

restrained; concealed amid furious

ensconcement and violent bruises

almost as pure and as fresh as

.

vivid red, the camellias were

in full bloom yesterday,

lush petals covering a beaten heart.

~*~

I can’t save your life, though nothing
I bleed for is more tormenting
I’m losing my mind and you just stand there
And stare as my world divides
You belong to me, my snow white queen
There’s nowhere to run, so let’s just get it over
Soon I know you’ll see you’re just like me
Don’t scream anymore my love, ’cause all I want is you…

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Filed under Poetry

Overcast

Outside for the first time in a long time
You said you can’t remember what it’s like
To feel more than cold on the inside
But the sunrise will come again and you’ll be just fine…

~*~

It’s been too long

Since I last felt sad

When the pink clouds

Didn’t make me mad

.

It’s been too long

Since I last had a motion

To mess things up

Fall away from the season

.

It’s been too long

Since I last felt the hurt

Sinking deep in my chest

Breaking apart my worth

.

It’s been too long

Since I’m out of style

When the cold was fine

I hung around for a while

.

It’s been too long

Since I shed a real tear

Let myself slide away

Succumbed to my fears

.

It’s been too long

Since I last waited again

For failure to go away

Let the dark into my skin

.

It’s been too long

Since I last saw a daylily bloom

Summer’s just a breath, and I want to stay

But it’s been too long since I last found a reason.

~*~

You are the rustling of leaves
And you are that honeysuckle breeze
You are the sunlight
Shine onto me, shine onto me…

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Filed under Poetry