Tag Archives: spectrum

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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Filed under Prose

A Faltering Song

‘Cause I would rather spend my life
Vacations in bed with you
Li
ke drunken summer kites
And this is only a test!
S
ober and scaring me to death…

~*~

Say there’s been a mistake

I’m not falling under the sanctity

And separating my surrender

From poise of inevitability

I’ll never let the sirens tire

Screaming for my name in gold

Underwater over fire

Losing infinity against their hold

I have no right to be jaded

By your tireless serenade

If my skeletal past consumes me

I’ll be digging my own grave

I’m simply disoriented

Dizzy and voyeuristic, set to burn

I’ll say a prayer for casualty

And I’ll circulate all of your concern

I’m addicted, you’re a gamble

I’ll lose the spare evidence

It’s visceral, but I’ll keep it here

You’re the only part that makes sense

I won’t ever let change hang around

You created the sleepless skies

Honestly, I’m barely sick

Please extinguish the southern nights

I’m attracted to liquid colours

To your spectrum of stereo and ash

If the day arrives that I can’t convince myself

Then my wasted world is set to collapse.

~*~

They’ll never take us alive
(Can you chase away the darkness?)
To live in love and die—!

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Filed under Poetry

Hardened Heart and Spectrum Soul

There’s naught but cosmos braided in thine eyes

Might blossoms doth flourish forevermore

Thine fingertips blush with that of surprise

Butterflies lilt from the dress thou hast wore

Yet mourning lips dost bleed red from thine tongue

Might melancholy plague thee nevermore

Thine toes amble amongst jagged shears stung

Bats shrieking from the fabric thou shalt tore

Mistress, must thou allow such perplexments?

Monochrome unto shade predicaments

Yet such soul of mine hath colours to spare

I shall love each grey of your heartstrings fair.

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Filed under Fixed Poetry, Poetry