Tag Archives: sky

vanilla iced coffee (for archer.)

haze of rosy dusk

a quick afternoon nap

dreams about cake

a yawning drowsy cat

.

deeper lilac sprawling

to flood the sky with stars

sketch in colour pencil

now to finish and restart.

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Beyond The Pale

Pull the trigger tight and watch our distances explode
If Texas is forever, where’s your home sweet home?
If anything should happen to me, I want you to know
I’ve loved you since ever since then…

~*~

Up there, where the sky looks a little less blue and a little more like the love we used to have

That’s where I’ll be headed now darling, that’s where all the stars go to die

Five thousand years and a minute wasn’t enough to make you stay for the night, so I’ve

Set my sights for the southern lights, but won’t you at least say goodbye?

.

The cold in my hands are getting worse with each passing sunset I wasted on your breath

The diurnal dreams and burning cash, the handmade kisses stippling your shirt

Expect me to return before the moon forgets I wasn’t there, and my shadow falls into debt

With the tear stains on your bedroom wall, did you really think it wouldn’t hurt?

.

Like cigarettes and patron saints, I’ll always come back to haunt the corners of your lungs

Like aching sighs and floral lace, your promises falling on another eternity

Like half-opened novels abandoned facedown on the coffee table, like the last calls left unsung

Like the bullet on my throat you placed as you knew you couldn’t leave me

.

Down here, where the ground looks softer, but only before the final crash starts to strike

Where will you be headed now darling, did you ever ask the stars to lie?

Five million years and minute more, and I would have made you stay for the rest of your life

So set your mind, take the northern lights, I won’t be there to say goodbye.

~*~

Don’t dance around me, I know what it means
No communication cannot be received
But I’m such a sucker for the rain…

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down by the fairy ring

oh, this wayward glow

i catch sleepy lightning bugs

and send them off to space

with one last quiet hug

they’ll light up the horizons

for you, when i failed to

do the very same, only you

melt me down like the

plastic jewelry you wear

the crude good luck charms

tarnished promise rings

and the ancient silver locket

with our very first picture inside

the one i always hated

because my hair stuck up

in such strange places, but you

thought it was funny and i

found myself laughing along

recklessly, almost afraid to

let my contracting insides show

pushing down the declaration

building castles in my head

though there’s no one in distress

inside to swoop in and rescue

only my monstrous self

just another forgotten tale

in a dead language no one speaks

but for a moment, i wondered

if you understood it—if you

understood me; the way your

delicate dimples danced to your

own melodies, a half-wit grin

dripping with sonatas and sonnets

and sweet sarcasm, somehow

endearing me like a lantern mystery

buy the paper sun is never mine

to keep, and so away it floats

up to that sky with its purple moon

and flaxen lightning bugs, and

you will nestle perfectly within the

crook of andromeda’s final embrace

for you belong in a place i lost

you belong in a place i don’t.

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pseudonym [5]

align the circumstances, hold crossfade

nebulae nightfall, slow ebb and cascade

dazing daylight dying out to desecration

younger aspidistras, bloom of cataclysm

.

chasms christening the edge of this infinity

imperceptible yet infallible, my invincibility

zoetropes of crushed sympathy hold back a lie

elysium and eloquence to pray forth when i sigh

kerosene for my lips, my bones to scatter the sky.

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Asteroseismology

I see no stars in the sky anymore, darling

That’s because they’ve all fallen to the ground now

And lodged their nebulous shards in between

Those tiny beating hearts and empty restless souls

And names and cities and sidewalks no one will ever know

And these stars are long damaged with love

But they look just as exquisitely pretty as when they

Were once strung up in that infinite tapestry

We call the universe—the same universe where

I wonder why I’m still so caught up in you and I

When we’re only stripped-down parts of a woeful quintillion

An unknown number with hydrogen in our breaths

And I want enough pieces for a constellation, darling

Just like you and them and us and the rest of this galaxy

Will you have slowly mended everything together for me

Or are you just another faded light I will soon have to bury?

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darkrooms and diadems

daybreak

heartaches

lukewarm

rainfall

.

silhouettes

playing in

the corner

of a bad call

.

starlight

and ashes

woven into

a blonde king

.

hopeful yet

thoughtful

no mercy for

the dying

.

we’ll fly but

i’ll collide

with nothing

but comets

.

galaxies hush

still at your

voice, another

skyline death

.

mindless

so clever, yet

barely out

of my reach

.

no need for

your gold when

you’re the one

that i need.

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Lights Off

Saturday, 8:41 PM. Earth hour. Los Baños becomes nothing but a phantom silhouette—a haunting afterimage trapped in a glass universe, a distant cosmic echo; reduced to faint outlines fading out into darkness. Humans taper off into pale wandering ghosts.

The stars are in full bloom tonight.

It’s easier to get lost in the incarcerating qualms of one’s infinitesimal existence. Without violent neon glows and blinding horizons to distract from the infinite oceans of nothingness, one is left to float among elusive shadows and falling atmospheres; still quietly wondering.

Surely enough, it’s only an hour of vespertine vigil, barely a notch in time; before the lights flicker back on, and reality takes its steady hold on this hazy daydream once more.

But for now, this pure nothingness—frigid breeze coalescing with transient eventide,

It’s beautiful.

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nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

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Gemstones and Constellations

You tried to kiss me through the window
I tried to settle for the taste of touching glass

Over the sound of answering machines
Because I love the way your voice
It says it’s gonna get back to me someday…

~*~

Remember the morning that wept cold stars like winter rain

Diamonds unraveling as they danced against the faded windows

As the pale pink light beneath the horizon left taciturn stains

On the browns and greys of onlooker eyes, barely open with sorrow

Painting a polychrome noir by the griefstricken brush of a god

Seeking those wandering souls that have strayed too far to go back

Piercing glass concealed fallen ashes that traced the broken blood

Like bitter scepticism left locked under closet doors so it won’t distract

Remember the morning that drained nights of their dissonant reverie

As for saving the stars that fell that evening…only a fated few were so lucky.

~*~

And this is gonna be the best day of my life
A celebration of an ending, come on…

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The Diary Of Jane; or Three Excerpts

i.) him; or the rest of the infinite lie

Try to find out what makes you tick
As I lie down, sore and sick
Do you like that, do you like that?
There’s a fine line between love and hate
And I don’t mind, just let me say
That I like that, I like that…

revenge is colder than the dark ocean

that you carelessly left me to drown in

fill the chasm with the rest of my blood

and take warmth in my spiteless jealousy

as you want to make me bow down to you

but i’m carried away by your fading current

the horizon bends but never breaks the weight

is there another way to hold on to the sky again?

~*~

ii.) her; or the story no one wanted to tell

Desperate, I will crawl
Waiting for so long
No love, there is no love
Die for anyone
What have I become?

she’s sore and sick from all the fine red lines

her penned diaries have been burned to ashes

and no one tells her how it should be—or why

desperation ascending from her spine and body

“why don’t you die?” the windows were fogged

when she took her own life in that late autumn night

but no one wanted to cry tears for a corpse in a closet

so they buried her the best they could to keep her quiet…

~*~

iii.) them; or the guilt that burned a house

Something’s getting in the way
Something’s just about to break
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane
As I burn another page, as I look the other way
I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane
So tell me how it should be…

the front porch is swollen with pink lightning bugs

the coffee’s cold, but i stopped drinking it long ago

i don’t want morning light to catch up with my sins

i have things in my head that they cannot ever know

so i write a final letter to dear agony, forget to sign it

but it’s never enough to keep my head from screaming

the gunshots should have disturbed their sleeping sister

but she’s not here anymore. i’m sorry. let’s just get this over

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