Tag Archives: memories

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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The Blondes Are (Not) Alright

Blew motivation I had
To make my still beating-something
Not hurt that bad
Haven’t been home in some months
I haven’t loved myself
Just watching friends online
Look like they need some help…


I brought a knife to a shootout

But I’m not looking for a fistfight

I don’t mean to get too bloody

I just wanted to feel a little alright


But it’s difficult to make amends

When you’re holding the trigger

And kiss the muzzle to my mouth

Before I plead for it to get better


Bang bang bang, do you feel it yet?

Don’t drop that dime to take a bet

If I die now on the pavement curb

I’ll try not to bleed out on your shirt


I brought awkward to the limelight

I hear it’s the latest fashion show

I don’t mean to flaunt my mistakes

I just wanted everyone to know


That it’s hard to feel sorry

When you’re feeling sorry for yourself

They said I’m being crazy

Like condescencion’s good for my health


Clap clap clap, do you feel regret?

Hold on to plastic, it’s not over yet

I’ve got about three more acts to go

And the script makes to take it slow


I brought a friend to a death match

Just to see who’ll take the first move

I don’t mean to make it too chaotic

Just seeing if you would if you could


I never ask about the when, what, or why

I’ve been standing here thinking all was fine

But then the situation changed to see you

Spitting comments on the shoes I just shined


Blah blah blah, will you ready get set?

You’re the best nothing I’ve ever met

Too cool for the beatdown that ensues

Tie my hands to the bomb, I had no clue


I brought sobriety to the late pub nights

And they all told me to get the hell out

You brought the glass to my lips again

And drowned me in self-sustaining doubt


We can laugh about all the memories we hate

Including how this one has an expiration date

Looks like you want some help, damn, just ask

Don’t keep it in and blame other lies in the past


No no no, I didn’t mean to be thinking this loud

I gave you privacy when you told me to fuck off

I guess I’m done with fun, and I’m done, it’s true

But don’t worry honey, at least it’s all about you.


I never wanted to be thinking this loud
I never asked about the when, why or how
I wanted privacy, routine and everything between
While they’re just finding me out
I never wanted to be thinking this loud…

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Let Me In

If we’re being honest you broke every little promise
That you made to me, I was too blind to see
I was so defenseless now I’m coming to my senses
After all these years, it’s finally crystal clear…


and i let you in

when you were crying

allowing you to drown me

with relentless tears

i’m an honest man

but even good souls lie

and i’m sorry to say

every determined action ends

with a shattered promise

we’re nothing but immortal strangers

now, waiting for an introduction

that will never come

was i wrong to omit my name

in a letter meant for you?

i’m blindly stumbling down

every oath i thought they’ve taken

for the sake of lesser blood

only to find out that

you’ve been smearing it on the

blackened walls all along

so climb up on my scars and

fucking cry on them

the sting of the salt tastes better

when i know it’s deliberate

with every insipid issue

comes a cold winter to return the tides

and blowing snow in my eyes

still, i refuse to blink them

knowing you will steal my view

in the end, what’s left is a dusty attic

with a collection of all the foolish memories

of a friend and his machine

both smiling mechanically until

you can’t tell them apart at all

and this door may remain to be open

but it’s locked for you until then

feel free to knock ‘til your knuckles bleed, but

i won’t ever let you in again.


I let you bury me alive for far too long
But I’m climbing back up to the surface back to where I belong
And now it’s clear that you’re the worst part of me
How did I ever let you claw your way in so deep?

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We March To The Beat Of A Different Drum

Listen honey, I’m a lot like you
Don’t trip, let us show you what to do
You say hey, let’s cheers to us
We’re gonna be victorious
Don’t matter what they say…

Hey, let’s cheers to us

Another year of crazy fuss

Madness, stories, and reminiscing

The same beat our hearts are singing

Some connections may be hazy

And the threads may be entangled badly

But I know I’ll always find my way

Back to what we have built in solidarity

You only live once, the anthem we live under

As we lose our sane to the fun and misadventures

Here’s cheers to another year, and to the next

May we create more memories that we don’t take for granted.


Filed under Poetry

New Year, New Year

I’m in the sky tonight, there I can keep by your side
Watching the wide world riot and hiding out
I’ll be coming home next year
Into the sun we climb, climbing our wings will burn white
Everyone strapped in tight, we’ll ride it out
I’ll be coming home next year…


The arctic wind tastes of a million ethereal memories

Beleaguering the lost sympathy in my jaded brain

Thinking about all the moments I spent under the sun

The nostalgia that I’ve forgotten so they’ll eternally remain

Leading on, leading on, marching this bittersweet repast

Words that strike to the very bone, another reeling line cast

In inkstains and furious scribbles that cross out the world

And I did what they said I couldn’t, and I didn’t do as I was told

To the divine songs I dance along to, that told me “boy, you’re alright”

Passion, emotion, vindication, separation, in notes that alight

Saying hello but never goodbye to the quaint darling heart I gained

And to the kindred souls still there for me despite all the withdrawing pains

Sure enough, the months may not have been a consistent flurry of good

And most times, things don’t really work out the way that they should

Ebony turns an even darker shade, and gelid rain falls in crashing maelstrom seas

And when I rest my head every night, a litany of emptiness is all I can see

But with the hope that I once lost, I can fervently regenerate it again

Celebrating the end of the days with the guys screaming Viva La Hysteria Bien!

And with only the secrets I traded and faded, the things I don’t have to hide

I may be dead somewhere, in another time, but for now I know, at least…I’m still alive.


Come on get on get on, take it till life runs out
No one can find us now, living with our heads underground
Into the night we shine, lighting the way we glide by
Catch me if I get too high when I come down
I’ll be coming home next year…

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bitter; beater…better?

“I’ve been saving myself for you.”


for me, bring back the beat

symphonies static in summer heat

ocean waves that washed away

the memories that will never stay

saving blood for what can’t be had

never knew you want it that bad

warm as the photographs you set on fire

i’ll be a good boy and say i’m the liar

convince me that this isn’t just a movie

and your melodrama ain’t a comedy

that the rude words colliding on the sky

wasn’t just another plot for me to die

but with everything i thought i’ll create

is just another separation desperate

and i can’t wait to bring the beat back home

but this time i’ll be playing it all alone.

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Chronicles of the Senseless and the Sleepless: Staying Sober

Well now this could be the last of all the rides we take
So hold on tight and don’t look back
We don’t care about the message or the rules they make
We’ll find you when the sun goes black…


And we proclaim that I don’t look the same as I did yesterday

Every bruise and blemish counted is just another reason for me to stay

If misery was punishment, then we’re both headed for the guillotine

But I’d rather be decapitated and headless than an overthinking machine

Every story we’ve had to throw, profanity mixed casually like cocktails

Only the starrified night and empty pavements can witness our fails

Waging a war against murderers lurking in the shadows of the city

Sodium streetlamps and laughter illuminating in each other’s company

Hands painted black, music caught between the skins of our teeth

Verboten made verbatim, calculating in every sense of blame and defeat

Maybe we won’t forget the good times, and let the bad times go to hell

Devil may care but we won’t mind, say but don’t tell, give what you can sell

One last drink to toast over, before this damn year gives way and finally breaks

Shots for every adventure and misfortune, one for every felicity and mistake

Alcohol to alleviate the drowsiness, and coffee to nurse the raging stomachaches

I may be a shambling mess, but for this I don’t mind staying just an hour more awake.


And you only live forever in the lights you make
When we were young we used to say
That you only hear the music when your heart begins to break
Now we are the kids from yesterday…

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How To Say “Sorry”

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count five stars blinking out on the palm of my hand

Whispering that this illusion’s grand, and I’m too infinitesimal to understand

How the world works and spins in its torque

How the skies are blue and why there’s rain in June

Why everyone lies and why people die

Why memories are memories, why angels don’t fly

Why chaos reigns in anarchy, and why you refused to say sorry

Even though I was bleeding out in front of you

And how the bruises are evidence for my allegations being true

But even without the vivid purple tattooed on my skin

I could still count every single sin

That you carved with a knife on the back of my heart

Saying you won’t end my life when you killed me with an art

Pressing down, feeling rife, tearing my veins apart

Will you still say this was simply for a restart?

For an iota of the darkest eyes you still call human

Face away from the tragedy and turn your soul to the sun

If those lips are crushed under the pressure of the truth

Fucking scream about everything, they won’t refuse if they knew

About the spinning planet, how they won’t understand it

About the blue skies and rainy day day lies

About death and regrets and how angels can fly

About memories being memories, and chaos made to create

And about how you refused to say sorry while you stood at hell’s gate

I’m at a loss for words, and everything escapes—

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count one mouth moving soundlessly at the palm of my hands

Saying that my delusion’s grand, and I’m too foolish to understand

Against the stubbornness and the haze, that you were never one of the ways.

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Mary’s Counting Dead Sheep Again

Mary had a little dream
Her eyes were blank and cold
And everywhere that Mary went
The beasts were sure to go…


Another night spent where there’s nothing but wasted thoughts arbitrarily presenting itself behind my star-sewn eyelids, slaughtering and slandering what little is left of the fleecy drowsiness that I stared the myriad astral bodies into. Horizons blend from honeysuckle sunsets into a velvety-rich midnight, every jaded memory and faded remembrance lying somnolent on my bed, and activated by the flick of an overused lamp switch. Nondescript chagrin is pressing softly at the back of my inundated throat; later on I’m aware that this force will grow until I begin to choke and fail to intake oxygen. For now, I exhale tiredly. The weight of the world trails behind my breath and sinks in the disturbed dust, kicking up old resentments.

I feel vexed. I shouldn’t be trusted to live up to the chimerical expectations that everyone has written down for me in indelible ink, as if it was the byzantine code that would unlock my stubborn rusted heart if they sharpened their blunt needles and tattooed it under the layers of my diaphanous flesh, into my clenched and straining muscles. It hurts, doesn’t it? The bared grins sneer unsympathetically, claws holding me down with incontestable strength, and it’s all I could do to complacently nod, cautiously wary of the glinting guillotine that’s dangling only inches away from my stiffened neck. I’m merely a plaster-cast mind, deranged and cracking under the pressure of the tattered cassock’s final judgment, and someday they will unsheathe me and mock my abstract art.

Despite the vainglorious efforts, painstaking hands filling in the voided gaps with purified liquid gold won’t fix me. It may look to be a desirable effect; yes, and perhaps it would do me good to have a little bit of luminance in the bare, simple vessel I questionably call my body. But in the end it’s nothing but a deceitful playact, an illusion of smoke and mirrors, fragrant cerise roses beneath the ravenous mucilage monster waiting for dear sweet Mary to reach out her delicate hands and get her cherry blonde locks entangled in the lethal thorns. And I do not wish to be darling strawberry-cheeked Mary, adored and oh-so glorified by everyone, yet playing the unfortunate lifeless victim in the end. I won’t be the one being grieved over, I won’t be at the receiving end of the sword; rather, I’ll be the merciless hand holding the ax and wiping the poison off her pallid blue lips.

And where does the verdict of the counseling jury lie, staring down upon me condescendingly with my indelible inked-on vices and gaping neck wounds from grazing the guillotine blade and the inevitable tempered gold patching up my shattered bones, as I hide the bloody murder weapon behind my back and cross my broken fingers, still tasting little Mary’s most saccharine sin and feeling the prickling sensations dig deep into my engraved palms? Will they immediately claim me guilty? Or is my goading charisma enough to get the edacious wolves begging for my forgiveness to save the hunt for another day? The questions hang from my pastel ceiling dreamily, yet the answer rests in my lurid nightmares, I know. I know. For now, I hold my breath and slowly close my star-sewn eyelids, counting the wasted thoughts dragging into another night spent and another soul selling out. One, two, three, four, five…


…They followed her when she woke up
She woke up, she woke up
They crept into her fragile heart
And made its beating stop.

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Filed under Prose

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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Filed under Poetry