Tag Archives: dream

¿ e m o t i o n s ?

i’m happy

like a ukulele tune

twinkly revelry

all the way to the moon


i’m depressed

like a relentless failure

finishing touches

of doubts and unsure


i’m excited

like a coffee adrenaline

over the clouds

and no artistry for serene


i’m anxious

like a falling red hole

no end seen

nor the starlight it stole


i’m this and that

i’m both and none

i’m blues and golds

i’m night and sun


i don’t know what

to think and feel

i’m still confused

on dream and real


so drag me higher

and fly me down

until i figure out

if i’ll smile or frown.


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Filed under Poetry

a muse’s musings

you gave me

a brilliant surge

of optimism—

so bright, it’s

rather painful

i was never one

to count my stars

before they appear

but now i’m hopeful

for all of the doubts

incarcerated me

and it’s always

disappointingly brutal

but now you’re here

with a sign so clear

so i’ll hold on and

carry on until i’m far.

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Filed under Poetry

The Callalily’s Song

You make me twist in my dreams

Diamonds fall from my eyes as I seem

Like a happy wave of melancholy

With heavy doses of sharp-taste irony


I can catch the gaze but not the embrace

I’ll hear the words but I won’t waste

Another second with such distal aches

Shivering in my spine as I break


A million emotions that jump in my blood

Are better than vessels drained of god

And my cheeks bruise again from the thought

Of dead roses in bloom and lungs in knots


What was bridged in that fateful midsummer

Shall last, interstitial, a transient forever

For perhaps the hazardous sins I’ll commit

In contusions are arrested in vignettes to omit


It’s the golden state glow of your undertow

Bringing me under and letting me go

Hidden in virulent sonatas I shall dare to chase

For a chance at hope to see your divine face


It may be the perpetual hurt that keeps me awake

And I may reach for sunshine blue but I won’t see it stay

But I won’t ever get tired, no, I’ll let my heart do all the talking

And listen to the rain for lost passion that keeps on singing.

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Shades of Blue

the taciturn rain,

sometimes quiescent drizzle,

sometimes clarion storm

reminds me of turquoise memories


of electric glitter nail polish

shaded onto fingernails

pointing in the wrong direction

and chipping at the edges


of hair that looks like clouds

but coloured blueberry-slushie sky

and is iridescently sweet

like a gloom boy’s laughter


of sulky mp3 players

singing sempiternal distractions with

symphonies of dizzy dreamers

and skyward soul collisions


of apathetic faded scarves

wrapped around breeze-bitten necks

subtly referencing a beloved one

of the same jaded violin notes


of self-made backpack straps

a final flicker of glimpsing hope

before cosmic turns infinitely invisible

and footsteps cease giving chase


of cerulean paint peeling off bus seats

revealing a dull sheathe of grey slate

of wailing sirens intertwined with alarming red

of the ocean navy pen composing this poem


of the sky and the sea, melting horizon’s clarity

stark in mindless scratches adhering to scarred skin

the taciturn rain, so quiet, that cobalt eyes never noticed

coldness ceased falling, as blue memories caught up with me.

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Filed under Poetry

Hold On, Fall Away

Do you know
I count your heartbeats before you sleep?
I bite my fingernails to bone
And then I crawl back under the stairwell
To a place I call my home…


Hold on, she says, and her suspended voice feels like a serpentine blossom, mutinous choking thorns wrapped gracelessly around the wall of my deflated lungs’ chambers, puncturing them effectively and leaving me gasping for the air that never enters my mouth.

But I can’t breathe anymore, I implore.

Hold on, that simple phrase again, manipulative and senseless, gently caressing the convoluted scars on my wet face like quietly-raining feathers from a fallen divine being’s cast wings, the burning touch barely grazing past decrepit flesh, ethereal and gossamer.

I didn’t want to miss anything, but the wind is chafing my dehydrated eyes. So I blink. I suddenly feel dizzy and nearly fall flat on my back, reveries resting as I attempt to steady myself. Sleep would be so merciful right now.

Hold on, another rousing round to jolt back the drowsy senses of my rapidly-decaying nerves. Each uttered word is like the sweetest taste of corrupted fruit in an exegesis dream, and I can’t allow myself to swallow it anymore, even if I took the first bite of sin.

Don’t make me do this. A foreign voice breaks the muffled barrier, and I flinch in static shock before shamefully realising that the unfamiliar sound was my own. Who…who was I now?

Hold on, the conversation hits like a loaded shotgun with a chipped bayonet, bullet penetrating the back of my head and cracking my skull once, before the sharpened blade cleanly slices through my wandering brain, a merciless double kill for certainty. Bang. Crash. Slash. Crack. Death.

I’m forgetting the colour of your hair now, the dainty lavender scent that follows you around everywhere you flutter, the way your plush lips mouthed serenades that collided and lit up fireworks in my reflection; I’m forgetting the sensation of seeing you, of wanting to see you again.

Hold on, the promenading whisper has amalgamated into an earsplitting scream now, dangerous hedonism dancing in demons and demigods around my shattered ears, past my constricting throat, relentlessly waltzing in wearied circles over and under what used to be the armistice memory of you.

No—My deteriorating vision blurs and falters, cascading and collapsing in iridescent shades of gold and silver, coalescing in glistening hues of diamonds and rubies, fluctuating in pastel blossoms of jasmines and forget-me-nots, all before shutting down into that damning void of sempiternal blackness. The last thing I saw with my weakening sight was her colourless ashen eyes tear up once, twice.

Hold on…was the last thing I ever heard.


Murder the moment!
My god, I’m the serpent
I’m sorry, I can’t see
That you truly love me…

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Filed under Prose

Ephemeral Bride

Ephemeral bride of my dreams

Wedding-white veil torn at the seams

Diamond gleam and diamond ring

Purple finger and purple serene


Ephemeral bride of my dreams

Efflorescence like an imperial queen

Crystalline wine and crystalline skin

Scarlet bouquet and scarlet lips


Ephemeral bride of my dreams

Velvet tapestry fair, thy curtain skin

Sapphire eyes and sapphire crown

Blushing cheeks and blushing gown


Ephemeral bride of my dreams

Mine sweet erudition adorned within

Emerald fragrance and emerald tongue

Golden church bells and golden lungs


Ephemeral bride of my dreams

The chapel doors open, the march begins

Obsidian promises and obsidian “I do”

Before grey eyes open up to a greyer gloom.

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Filed under Poetry


Thespian fascination dares to overtake me

Oppressing every facile notion in quiet synergy

Red is the shade to which my dreams fade

Tortured is the tint to whence desire is unmade

Undercover lover, eyes may forget why love

Repents in fragile oneirism, it’s all you ever have

Eternally bartering in an abundance of stitches

Delaying the pain reverent when your heart hitches.

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Filed under Poetry

in which love is just another imagined story by a hopeless writer who has dysgraphia

“and though to my arms you are forever lost,
you are a prisoner in my fantasy.”

~Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz


you are my sweetest fiction,

conjured, derived from the very ends of

the lacklustre impediment

that is my algid imagination.

light calla lips flushed pleasantly

(though, i may only be imagining it so)

elusive soul a taunting fugitive

(from which i could never hope to catch

with bare hands and bare feet)

cerise smile melting upon liquid gaze

before i then realise—the blood was my own.

missing birthdays, unsent letters

piling into sealed dictionaries upon my oaken desk

and again, i weep the night sky

in the grievous absence of your starlight.

falling, falling; lilies, lilies,

plucked like shimmering innocence

from the skin of my gritted teeth, sighing


though, your divine body is not mine

to ruin and revere relentlessly

under eternal storybooks and lost volumes of

anthologies, the empty pages

all at once interjecting: “impossible?!”

but, is it always so? must my fluttering shyness

be short-lived like your tyranny?

surely we must not always adore the

blinking butterflies, cascading iridescence

billowing solemnly into my reverie—

accidental interruption.

aralias, aralias; painful, painful;

i am to dirty fly as you are to decadent fruit

dragged down rather cruelly into

the ad infinitum of your fiery veneration

and i am unable to twist my words into cathartic

crashing, collapsing, holding it in…

but, i do not mind at all; for i lost mine

the moment you slipped from enthrallment into

the ache of my charismatic sternum,

submerging me in pacific oceans of desire—

enchantingly alluring me into the cozen, shackling confines

of the prison you call your heart.

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Filed under Poetry, Valentines Poetry

luna cielo

for there never was

and never will be

a finer vagrant soul

to poetically allude me

than the billows of notes

that fall from your shade

and the stars in your lips

to sing a thousand serenades

dear, if only i could compose

about all my woeful throes

in lights enchanting as yours

no word a wasted recourse

and the aesthete that lies

beneath restless amber eyes

will dream up a promise

for fallen eternity’s premise

where the universe spins

as relentless time should be

and no whispers of parallels

between the lines of you and me

i’m quite dizzy from the sun again

but i’ll close my hands, count to ten

and wait against such fragile hope

that you’re the sunrise to decode

so why do i weep, ever still?

in the midst of my bedroom floor

only bare remnants remain, until

a voice paints a distant nevermore

of faithless keep, an endless rue

tomorrow’s heart, nor i nor you

southern nights, quaint afterglow

the days pass on as we’ll quietly go

i may be weary, yet do not think

i’ll give up when i’m on the brink

let’s chase the wind, and we’ll ascend

to an everlasting paradise we can spend

for there never was and never will be

a finer valiant soul to poetically allure me

than the muse of the moon and billowing notes

that fall from your shade and the stars that you wrote.

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Filed under Poetry

Mood Rings

I never have to carefully shape sentences
When I’ve got some words to say
They’re falling from my mouth from the time
That they hit my brain
‘Cause we built a picture made for frames
We live in chemistry away from all the wasted time and taste…


There’s a reason why I like the pink in your mood

My words hit the ground, but you catch them so we’re good

If time’s running out for me, I’ll be sure to take it slow

I may be high on conflict but on your sights I’m low


The amount of space between my smile and eyes are closing in

But frustration and disappearing sense is not a problem

Because if you laugh, then I laugh, and if you cry, then I die

The city’s a slow waltz into the colourful cocktails we have to try


I may speak my mind but I talk with my heart

And it only takes one skipping beat to know where to start

I keep falling for everything that wants nothing to do with me

But I’ll keep trying until the blondes stop being pretty


I change so quickly, I don’t even know what to think

And your face goes from soft violet to vivid blush like a 90’s trick

I’m the rain that you chase, you’re the lone cloud in May

Our weather’s too erratic and unstable, but I adore it anyway


So don’t get me wrong, your fingers may be pointing

But I’ll take them in my hand and yell bang, the bullet’s flying

You’re troubled by the clothes you wear, confused looks good on you

It accentuates the glow in your halo, but you never had a clue


I’m asking all the wrong questions, but you still answer them right

And I’m hoping to the moon that you’ll answer the most important one tonight

I’m dirty red, you’re canary yellow, let’s collide together and be orange fire

A hurricane’s sleeping in my bedroom, can I stay over? We can dream until we’re tired.


My mood’s dictated by our conversations
And if you don’t text I get too frustrated
I want you all to myself this time, t-t-time
Conflicted looks good on me, I’m trying desperately
I want you all to myself this time, t-t-time…

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Filed under Poetry