Tag Archives: inspiration

floral notebook

i pluck each petal off

the roses in your faltering

and floral notebook

.

chancing upon every

word, every smudge, every

catchy beat and hook

.

for the girls you kissed

your stars to, for the boys

you laughed with drinks

.

when the days are rife

and navy blue, and when the

midnight’s pastel pink

.

when the songs feel like

a thousand butterflies

chasing rainbows past your feet

.

and the screams endow

glass shards under your skin

and between your teeth

.

i pluck the roses off

your efflorescent notebook

listening to the echoes resonate

.

across the universe and in

a million miles, the scarlet petals

make another heart detonate.

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triggers in traffic lights

body like a car crash

i’m driving too fast

trying to get rid of

the devil riding on

my fucking shoulder

telling me don’t stop

.

i can’t blink anymore

they took away my view

and my hands are shaking

on the steering wheel as

i tear down the highways

chasing up atlantic to hell

.

but once i pull the trigger

and hit you with my bullet

i’ll fight in drunken sunsets

until i hear you admit all of it

and when you do, i’ll let it go

i’ll take my hold off the brake

and we’ll careen out of control

bodies colliding on the high road.

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fever dreams

i hope that there

are times when

the silent hitch

does not break

to vernal death

.

where ultimatums

and eidetic dreams

are not distractions

from your idle ides’

varicoloured aching

.

let the fragrance of

cherry blossoms lull

us into oblique sleep

falling into aesthetic

advents of febricula

.

as i lose to twilight

fend off paltry beats

of my delicate pulse

and lay me down in

melancholy pastures.

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silent summers and wasted memories

They used to be the rivers
That would take us away
But now you only call me
Every Christmas and my birthday…

~*~

diving into

liquid reveries

and searching for

lost words

i could never

set past my

grievous tongue

in endless

nights of misadventure

and chicanery

rife with fondness

and hyperbole

and playful kicks

jovial as it hits

our wayside brains

though never

directly spoken

we were speaking

in a language

that only we

could decipher

leaving the rest of

the world to wonder

what amuses our

strange souls so

little did they know

we were laughing

at them all along

for they could

never understand

how these broken gears

spin and stutter

and how we turn such

mechanical gnashes

into a symphony

listening to each other’s

lilting cacophonies

until sunset hits

our bloodshot eyes

bidding us its goodnight

and i yearn for those

pastel-shade days…

of glib tongues

talking about stuff

and sheer nonsense

and insensibility

and rancid relativity

and bouts of sovereignty

in blue screen deaths

and sleep infidelity

now a distant polaroid

fettered in grey

and fragmented by time

a memory daze—

i break the surface of

my reminiscing

almost forgetting to

catch my breath

and write the words

i remembered to think

but never said aloud

hoping someone could

still hear the wind…

it was a delicate summer

and yet, rather wasted

on dead air and empty silence

that much, i know

that much, i could see

and that much, i wonder

i wonder if you knew

and i’m rather curious

why are we wasting

time again?

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Stars In Flight

The hope that you spilled onto my tongue

Still has no discernible taste

And all the second chances, times infinity

Felt like such a complete waste

I want to defy the serpents hissing profane

And light up these lips in butane

I want to believe that yesterday don’t exist

And cross it out of my checklist

But I relapse into hospital wedding gowns

In voices that don’t make a sound

Choking on gold ribbons, feeling the same

As I get tired of writing my name

Spinning in cycles of silver clouds and pose

Faith as banal as a lacerating rose

Telling heaven what I want again ‘til it hurts

Injured by hell, losing to my curse

Will I ever replace restless flames that ignite

As pretence returns to take the fight?

Will I close my eyes against the terror austere

Can I say I’ll still be here in a year?

But I hear you singing in the wind and echoing

Past empty hallways, ever listening

Sabotaging rusted knives deigning to be selfish

With a stellar colliding for the finish

You will never know you’re my angel, will you?

You’ll never know how many times

You saved me from falling out into dark oblivion

As desperation’s bile starts to arise

When you swore you won’t chase in circles south

And whispered as I held my mouth

I did yearn to die, but you make me want to fake it

Sleeping in carparks, I might make it

And the floral pain nearly tears my skin into shreds

But you drink away the poisoned lead

I’m screaming thoughts which you turned into wine

I couldn’t rest until I’m startled into fine

I never deserved all of this, though it might be sparse

You swore it’ll disappear, promise to stars

I’ll be alright, love, I can bleed away all my phantoms

Someday I’ll fly to you, away from rock bottom.

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Headlines & White Wine

I could never tell what’s on my mind when you are inside it

Lenient limerence against the lashing lacerations, on repeat

Over a cypress tree you painted in grey and told me to climb

Vagabond heart hiding behind a million branches, I can’t find

Elusive footprints you left in the virgin snow sing a soft melody

Defying the limbo I’m trapped in, fugue nightmare of my vanity

Your cinder block notes and forte strings cut me to the very bone

Orchard chasing sunset, counting sparrows until we end up alone

Undersea glow that drowned my eyes in a steady gurgling cadence

Victory you’ve held apart from me, my darling southern enchantress

I see now the sky you perceived, the suicide reds and sweetest scarlet

Clairvoyance of the words you tucked in my head, I won’t ever lose it.

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Weightless

Make believe that I impress
That every word by design turns a head
I wanna feel reckless
I wanna live it up, just because
I wanna feel weightless
Cause that would be enough…

~*~

Right now, I think I’m alright. My orbit is spinning steadily, caught in constant motion against the gravity of greater stars, keeping me from flying away and colliding with other astral bodies. The stars I rely upon are simply breathtaking. I deign to taste their enthralling radiance, but I’m aware of the impossibility of such a foolish notion, so I simply content myself to revolving around it lightyears away, thanking it silently for keeping me in line as I admire it from afar. But sometimes, for no discernible reason, the gravity weakens, and for a moment I break and drift away, attempting to pull back to my tether, terrified that I may never be able to bring myself back to that gravity, to the only thing that’s keeping my from crashing and vanished into oblivion within a black hole, forever lost in the infinite void. Hydrogen flares in my atmosphere and almost burns me up, as I strain and strain and strain back to that star, to that planet, to my solitary source of hope and light that always falls out of reach, to no avail. Then, to my great relief, the gravity slowly returns, returns to take me back in its reassuring grasp, returns to make me feel safe, and I can breathe easy again, comforted in its halcyon force. But as I continue to spin around the star, I wonder when the day will come when I finally drift too far away, too far for the gravity to reach, too far for the star to save me, too far gone. Within me, an earthquake deepens the rift, spreading veins of crevices and cracks, making prominent, irreparable faults, my molten core’s coriolis barely holding me in. And I wonder, I do wonder, which one will win the unwinnable race, which event horizon will occur first to end me. Will I fall away or break apart?

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Sharp Edges

But these bruises don’t breathe

Unless you ameliorate them

With your own cold, lifeless hands

.

The daylight appears desolately bleak

Sucking out watercolour dawn and sunset

Waiting for you to speak about them

.

Jagged contusions that I tend to

Hiding constellations when you’re awake

Afraid that you’ll leave me for the light

.

Midnight is but a chemical rush

Your body is but an unfinished work of art

Morning is but an automatic languor

.

I’m useless anyway; so use my trophy eyes

And when you get tired of the view

You can blind me and throw away whatever’s left.

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Damage Control

Doors slam, harsh words
We blame each other
Three days, shut out
I can’t take this breakdown…

~*~

The riot in my head

Crying, crying.

Waiting. One moment

Its tongue is jaded serpentine,

The next I’m wrapped

Within its crushing embrace

Struggling, struggling,

Weak. My tired feet are

Dancing on nail beds

To desire my rightful place,

Daring. How dare me—

How dare he to profane

She to recollect cicatrices

With the tip of an accusing finger

To me. Heartless ribcage, will

You leave ligatures all over my

Silenced lips once again?

Of course, that is what you

Do…that is what you will…

Twain capricorn souls and volunteering

Severed hands…is the fragrance of

The future solely mine; no, yours—

To dominate selfishly?

No. No? No!

Need I even repent in my

Inquiries, regretting it all too late?

Struggling, struggling. Weak

As of late. Acrid flesh peels off

To reveal viscid fruit within a

Decaying flower, sweet like the lying

Promises of the riot in my head,

Crying, crying. Waiting.

~*~

And it’s all, and it’s all
And it’s all in the back of my mind
All I want, all I want
All I want is to turn back time
Dare me darlin’, I don’t want to let go
And what we need is a little damage control…

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accentuate

you’re the one

that’s always

speaking and

gently singing

but somehow

i know within

that you’re just

always listening.

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