Tag Archives: inspiration

Danielle’s Falling October

Oh yes, she’s my redhead darling

The rarest kind that makes autumn feel so jealous

From her button freckles to her pumpkin-spice skin

She dances vivaciously in a riot of fireplace colours

.

Oh yes, she’s my redhead darling

The rarest kind that always makes my vintage heart feel new

When the pages are torn to cliffhangers and wishful nothings

Her camera smile captures every quaint blush of my pale hue.

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phantom boy

don’t you go,

phantom boy

i’m still not done

painting your portrait

to hang in my walls

long after the house rots,

long after i’ve passed away.

they said to let you go

for you’ve already found

your bluest heaven

where you can sleep with

fleecy floral angels,

but i don’t think i could

let you go that easily.

i want to capture you,

your ethereal silhouettes,

your faded outlines,

your scars and scepticisms,

your details and blurs,

and your coalescing heart.

because i still have mine,

phantom boy

and it beats angrily—

refusing to let me rest

until every colour, linework,

and careful brushstroke

is immaculate and

tastes tangibly of you.

i know you wish to leave soon,

phantom boy…

but won’t you please stay

and spare me just

one last masterpiece?

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Oblivious.

He was always

A speck in space

Unable to be seen

By the naked eye

Floating around,

U n r e a c h a b l e

.

It was foolish

Of me to attempt

To catch a meteor

Without thinking

That it would burn

My fragile palms

.

So I stood every night

Under that canopy of stars

Wondering. Hoping. Waiting.

Until the moon bleached my skin—

But shooting stars can never fall,

They will only pass you by.

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(lost and) found

why do

i hide you

why do

i even try,

to convince

myself that

what i’m doing

is alright?

.

why did

i lose you

when you’re

just a lie,

and why do

i continue

when i know that

it’s not right?

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Bluer Than Blue, Youer Than You

My empty head is so full of blue

Of bleeding skies and listless hues

Lonely petrichor in hidden dreams

Wish my heart wasn’t so evergreen

.

Hoping wasted hexes aren’t obscure

And the daylight stars are kismet pure

I blink, I wake, I sleep, I breathe, I die

With only pacific blue within my eyes

.

You’re efflorescent June, I’m wilting July

Perfume fragrance and perfume-scent lies

Morning coffee, morning hair, morning regret

Blue as bruises, blue menthol, blue until death

.

Gloom in charcoal and acrylic sighs

Rare as a black hole, losing fallen cries

Wearing cold blue like a feverish flu

Lucid repeat, my ocean angel, tidal you

.

My flooded head’s so full of midnight blue

Of pastel horizons coalescing xanthus hues

Raining embers until the hurricane sleeps again

Wish my empty heart wasn’t lacking aquamarine.

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red as the day she lost her sunset

my pen ceased to move

involuntarily to your soul,

but darling my thoughts have

since never stopped dancing

ever since that fateful summer

when you collided it into motion.

my faith may be a reckless phantom

but my eyes are your scarlet letter

and i’ll always see the world for how

you built it according to your word

of eloquence, of madness, of every sigh;

and i’ll never forget the melodies

that embraced all the darkest parts

Of my liquid nightmares, and pulled

them back slowly into the sunlight

until the nights felt warm with hope again.

i’d call you an angel, if it isn’t overused

and i think you already know that anyway—

but always know this to be the truth:

you may not always be the last thing on my mind,

but darling, you will always be the first.

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ápeiros

You were my mockingbird darling;

Caught in between my smileless teeth

As the universe revolved without wonder

.

My cigarette lungs are no good for you

But the cobalt in your stare was all I needed

To get away from a summer-set heaven

.

I must have lost ambrosia on my tongue; as

Your ichor paints over the autumn gloom on my face

And every infinite thought of ours ceases to exist.

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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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Arsonist

It feels like there’s a raging fire within my chest—

And I want it to burn everything inside and out

.

My lungs, my heart, my throat; I want it to replace my breathing,

Escape the confines of my ribcage and devour my skin whole

.

Swallow my reckless body as if I was nothing, and spit it out in faded ashes

And finally burn out like a last word at the tip of my nonexistent tongue.

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bedroom serenades

Now you’re gone, but I’ll be okay
Your hot whisky eyes have fanned the flames
Maybe I’ll burn a little brighter tonight
Let the fire breathe me back to life…

~*~

remnant of voices

saccharine pristine

never been better

i’ll listen forever

.

wind’s static noise

can’t mask laughter

we can’t be sober

i’ll listen forever

.

midnight memory

simple symphonies

a life in full colour

i’ll listen forever

.

serenading back

‘til morning sighs

so end this never

i’ll listen forever

.

it’s a nervous sea

but i don’t mind

i’ll listen forever

will you hear me?

~*~

I will sing to you every day
If it will take away the pain
Oh and I’ve heard you got it, got it so bad
‘Cause I am the best you’ll never have…

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