You’re the anchor
In my wrists
The gleaming blade
In my pendulum
You’re the cavity
In my quiet smile
The heave of my
You’re the torn skin
In my cold lips
The glint of light
In my glass shards
You’re the smudged dust
In my spectacles
The blurry red eyes
In my polaroid discards
You’re the voice
Inside my empty lungs
The sudden curses
Under my breath
You’re the comatose
In my hazeless dream
The last vaccine before
Infection leads to death.
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.
My shadow no longer walks with me—
Not because there is no light to cast upon it,
But because it’s ashamed to take the very same path
My disgraced footsteps have left an imprint on
But could I blame my shadow for running away?
All it wants is a drop of tasteless medication
And I’m a lacklustre smile away from an overdose
Sitting here, under the ghostly orange of the streetlight
Watching the outline on the asphalt recede from me,
I count how many seconds it takes for me to get home
And pray under my breath that my shadow doesn’t follow.
i am with the wind.
and the exhilarating thrill
envelops every sense,
taking my aching bones,
my hour-old bruises,
my smiling chipped teeth,
my angry brown scabs,
and lulling them back to rest,
making the pain seem like
just another pastel dream.
everyone’s just a myriad blur,
a riot of ceaseless colours
all rushing past me as
wheels bite gravel and spins
me to a whole new revolution
of a different planet in a
different existence where all
those bad memories don’t exist,
only i, and the sweat and rain
soaking the angel wings on
my back; feeling gravity
and friction and momentum
and all those ethereal forces of
the universe ensconced between
my scuffed red sneakers.
it’s all tricks and treats,
and it doesn’t matter if i fall
and eat concrete a thousand times
trying to do the same thing over again;
it doesn’t matter if i go home
always with new holes all over my
favourite jeans and jumpers
every single damn time;
it doesn’t matter if i’m being
chased away by the people who
think it’s a vagrant’s crime…
because the past and future tense
doesn’t matter when freedom
is felt right here, right now,
with me and my ride,
and i am the wind.
Remember me, she whispered
Heaven’s so far out of reach, and keep me close
Like a moment you’re afraid to leave
So now this is how it feels when you’re all alone
This is how it feels when your heart starts racing
You can ask but you’ll never know
The way it feels, the way it feels…
we’re not in the same universe anymore
and our tears flow in different states—
almost as that of plasma and gravity,
perhaps identical, but not at all the same.
the nostalgia creeps up like bated breaths
dead into the silence in the middle of the night
and it stays to suffocate the humid air—
and it stays to suffocate the insomniac mind.
there’s some form of sophisticated equanimity
that was achieved by neither of our farewells,
because the end was approaching at breakneck speed
and there simply wasn’t any time to be more polite
cutting out crass with guns we left in each other’s mouths
hoping the trigger doesn’t get pulled with our fingers
like issues, contorted into funny shapes that don’t make sense
breaking off has never been so easy as a lacklustre smile
but the stars never forgive, even when they forget
and the light from the horizon flickers indistinguishably
forming a supernova of your voice, faint though almost palpable
branded like indelible ink stains on the canvas of my brain.
this reverberating staccato, this thoughtless caprice, this infinite lethargy…
it never ceases to write cold epistles even when i am fast asleep.
oftentimes, i look into the other dimension of that cracked mirror
into the faceless impostor, the version of me that existed
before you killed it off, and before i killed you off in my plane,
and wish to the efflorescing quarks that you’re feeling the same way.
Lost and terrible, hollow in ways you’ll never know
If it’s all in my head, all in my head
It’s heavier now than it’s ever been, so fake a memory
Keeping me quiet underneath
And if this is the end, if this is the end
Destroy everything and make it new again…
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.
I stare at the world and see it as a miserable smile;
The kind that leaves taciturn strangers wondering whether it was genuine at all.
My eyes feel numb and sore from watching everything unfold like a labyrinth
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t close my eyes and dream again.
So I grasp at the lying nightmares constricting my throat and hope
That this time, I won’t have to choke on the truth anymore—
But the world’s still full of strangers with miserable smiles and numb eyes
Still wondering. Still awake. Still unable to breathe.
And I am one of them.
His wrists were so flushed
From the stinging pink blush
Rubber smile lasting a second
Before snapping back away
Rippling palest purple shade
Watercolour lily against peach
Numb pastels the only colour
He could paint without a stitch.