killing time

the afternoon splits

into several interludes—

a sip of watery coffee,

sudden mouthful of ice

staring at the graphite

face that no longer looks

like any human being

fidgeting; toss a chewed-up

toy past a protesting flick

of an orange striped tail

switching out playlists

genre adventuring before

a sudden flood of migraine

abruptly halts that journey

crushed biscuit crumbs

and the odd pungent smell

of ketchup that refuses to

air out and leave, somehow

pangs of anxieties caught

in between unfilled cavities

good enough? bad enough?

pretending to be properly

productive, as if there’s no

complaints nor conversation

and just radio silence from the

other end of a blinking mobile

as everyone else is busy with

living, and i’m still fazing frozen

in another dead-end afternoon.

lukewarm mochacchino and headaches at 7-11

Ride into the sun, ride into the sun
Where everything seems so pretty
When you’re lonely and tired of the city
Remember, it’s a flower made out of clay…

~*~

it’s been almost an entire year and then some

since the whole flock last roosted just to stay

we’ve had our cue cards and five seconds of fun

and last call of sour fries and cold waffle cakes

but now only two wasted bodies dance under

bright purple lights and the sedated aspirations

nodding heads, from the bassline, from the sleep

and from the sheer lack of plasticine inhibition

when the world is too angry, we still scream back

the past songs of the fallen, clearly left to attack

show me your secrets, then i will trade you mine

senselessly sober, these parallel lives in decline

but cough just once and we’ll have the sad truth

from stretches of lonely nights and elephant tattoos

inside the small cube you call your own freedom

rainbow sheets, cracked mirrors, limp curtains and

claw machine teddy bears protect your kingdom

it’s not much, but something is better than nothing

while i lose my shadow on concrete and let it do the talking

as time revolves unwound and with it the hopeful euphoria

along with false promises of “see you soon” and highschool drama

and somehow i feel a subtle digging tinge of irrational envy

for the things i badly want to do and yet i couldn’t really be

still stuck in all my childish drawings and untuned melodies

but peter pan, it’s time to grow up, now where’s your reverie?

a painful jolt—raging reality, and all the things i will surely miss

crash and cascade along the failed scars coating my flimsy wrists

consumerism and city blends, and chipped black nails left to gripe

old fairytales forgotten a bit too fast, falling victim to the call of life.

~*~

Where everything seems so ugly
When you’re sitting at home in self-pity
Remember, you’re just one more person
Who’s living there, it’s hard to live in the city…

laggard

uselessness

is not a virtue

nor a talent,

it’s simply just

an honest waste

of one’s time

.

it consumes

the mind and

salivates, just to

watch the drywall

rot and infest

spreading cracks

.

no longer within

the wall, but already

inside one’s furious

thoughts, seeking

a weaker barrier to

fully break down

.

until it reaches

a deep trench, where

all ends meet, and

the gap widens

just enough to drive

one quite insane.

Still. Alive.

We are made of confused atoms and endless fathoms

And falling in love, in the wrong place at the wrong time

Chasing cigarettes on sixth street astride a flock of pigeons

On a sombre wedding day, runaway like the cotton-lily bride

But her wrists are coated with bright red lipstick she wiped off

After she found out that happily ever after didn’t really exist, train

Dragging along the sidewalk, scraped skateboards and wet chalk

And grinding teeth and damp laundry scattered by grumpy landlords

Perfect enemies knocking down old drywall while the rats complain

And the best friend you haven’t talked to in decades just showed up

At your doorstep dead 2 AM, mostly drunk sometimes troubled to crash

In your couch, grin that familiar grin and ask you how you’re doing

Pretend that the medication in the bathroom cabinet’s only Ambien

And quietly sneak out the morning barelaced and shamefaced so

You’re all alone again, tapping to the faded songs you never recorded

Right by the dusty windowsill as elusive spiders build their homes in

The flat you can’t quite call your home, haunted by strangers’ past bodies

And his awful-scented aftershave of coriander that seems to linger forever

And an uprising in every locked closet hiding identities and mothballs and

Childhood VHS tapes and taped-up mystery boxes containing what might

Just be forgotten yellowing letters and cheesy postcards from every state, or

The very key to unlocking the ultimate truth of the entire universe itself…

But we’re all too busy losing our phases and being torn back to ashes to ever find out.

Caramel Oreo Milkshake (for Artemis.)

It’s only late, you have time
With any reason that you find
Somewhere in slumber
Is someone who didn’t see it coming
If all this leaves you behind
And everything starts to rewind…

~*~

gentleness in the crook of my left arm

sweet coffee and tasteless milk, dripping

against the pale of graphite and in

sleepy moving pictures, just some tired

faces tumbling through colder haze

of unfamiliarity and restless curiosity

from not really knowing what to do, but

a tiny heart beating against mine, it

guides my senses into instinctual concern

for a companion which replaces the love

i cannot truly keep; that similar butterscotch

twist against marbles of innocent aegan

another clever yet cruel coincidence

still speaking to me, to you, to us, to the

furry little darling dreaming of better days

like i have, like you will, like no one else

has ever dared to wander before…will my

arrow collide with the bullseye in your

chest, or will it miss its mark once again?

only time can intertwine these loose threads

pulling at empty air, until we find ourselves

finally curling up comfortably in quiet belonging,

saving all of our leftover warmth for crestfallen rainy evenings.

~*~

Tell me you’ll feel better
When you’re sleeping through the day
And I’ll tell you how you missed it
When you wake
It doesn’t mean anything…

Temporary Weather

and i’ll catch up.

i’ll stumble out of this blackout, even if it takes more than a few scars and stars and more than a few yesteryears

falling apart and over and down and out and again but never giving in and saving the old lies for the worst parts of my life

left in the past not made to last

i used to believe in you but i don’t believe myself

but now maybe there’s a sliver of faith left over for the both of us to have, if you’re willing to share

you’re doing better now. you’re doing fine more than ever. though you know that stability won’t always mean permanent happiness, you’ve found your comfort in the cold

and the sun, little darling, is slowly warming up to you

and i’m happy for you. i really am.

with your pretty floral dreams, in technicolour. beyond the vale, no longer fit to be called mere dreams. sweet pastels. exquisitely tangible. mine still exist only at night

hiding beneath the darkest shadows and crashing through shut jagged windows and seeping deep like charcoal into my nervous system

and most nights, i can’t even sleep at all

but i’ll shut my tired eyes and make a wistful wish, i’ll keep my sleeves clean for the magic tricks, i’ll bare my levitating heart for the ones that i love, maybe they’ll be amused by it and raise their lips, maybe they’ll simply dismiss it and hate the cheap theatrics but

i’ll hope, still. and i’ll wait. and i’ll create. until nothing becomes something becomes everything becomes

infinities. a second of a lifetime. time. i have time.

and i’ll catch up.

Damaging The Hereafter

You’re just another momentary habit

Twisting lungs and curling veins

Giving way to indestructible hysteria

Pulling me in, writhing with grief

.

Your indifference entices my curiosity

Though my self-worth is quite expendable

Holding on to what we’ve barely got

When you were too afraid to hold my hand

.

Lethal enough to let you past the barricade

That separates my heart from my sternum

But the fault chews on my lips like kerosene

And I still taste you in the burning of sunrise

.

Mechanical angel, come and take me away

Our paradise is made of metal and crimson decay

I promise I’ll be fine, I’m only a past delusion

Conjured from the cordite against your perfume

.

But you won’t give me back the love I wasted now

And time crashes desperately against gritted teeth

Vehement tides exposing skins, dyed with misery

Clammy from the accidents, calling for emergency

.

Think of me in the afterwards, consumed with self-secrecy again

Your mysteries embedding a thin film of desire underneath my skin

Pulsating with fever dreams and acidic pain, a vicious garden growing

You let me relapse just to understand but the final thrill was missing.

Pacific Transit

Spare a few seconds to bring my soul back to life

I’ll take the time to grasp onto your slippery thoughts

Go cry me a river, we’ll save it for next summer

For now, we’ll sleep in hazy hemispheres that skies forgot

.

Will this be more than a yawning afternoon soapbox love?

There’s no reason to believe if the whole world’s watching

I guess there’s something in your face, the way your smiles fall short

Beneath your callused fingertips, no such thing as a happy ending

.

Will a quiet embrace convince you to settle down and breathe?

Facsimiles of youth painted on dewdrops and plastic evergreen

If I really tried, can I find an oasis beneath the muddy puddles?

Should we pick up where we left off, or leave nothing but a dream?

.

Take a moment to set the scene; oh it’s fine, we’ll be here all night

From basement lights to firework flights, time’s shrinking with the tides

That touched our gentle skins and left bruises for strangers to count

For now, we’ll laugh like nothing matters, we have the weather on our side.

idle

fending away the flies

in this miserable heat

seconds spin sluggishly

routine feels discrete

.

finding a final flight

in the middle of a beat

minutes missing endlessly

routines fast deplete.

…and skyward, to come home.

save my

sensibility

the wrongness

of being right,

ludicrous—

mothballs taper

off to fixtures

on the wall;

your portraits

five. nine. nine.

not knowing

the date and place

but persisting to

hitch a hearse

for the winners

and you sleep

and you slept…

cheek to the gutters

like rainwater and

dry ice melting

but the puddles are

still far too cold

to be touched

with bare hands

.

your malevolence

my destiny

a love, chased

down with laudanum

and bitter spirits

starving for fire

not mine, no—

but angels won’t

exist just to see us

fall away and die,

and if i do so

let it be beside you

and these memories

of springtime

and soft sadness

discoloured fingernails

pointing to the sun

sending wishes

holding on tightly

never there?

never where—

not the awful thought

of losing you out

to another bore

.

when i’ve got

good stories to tell

and a bad heart

to prove innocent

hear me out, please

your music speaks

in earthquakes

and perfect fifths

though abstract

the ends may seem

myopic gaze

did you lose sight?

so save my sorry

humanity and

your flesh betwixt

mine again

for countdowns

don’t matter if

time doesn’t

make amends, when

you’ll be just fine

i know—but then

what am i?

what am i now?