Thursday, October 24, 2013

Lost down 25th street



sometimes i wonder
if i should give these thoughts a form

is it really okay?
is it considered the norm?

to assign them scrapers
and equalizer bars

to make mountains out of madness
to design them with my scars?

would the jury be out
if i was to write a verse?

will it rule in my favour?
or make matters worse?

but I just can't resist
these logophile urges
can't contain my voice
couldn't bear to suppress the surges

but sometimes I do wonder
if it's appreciable to do
to place thoughts at random
without clearly thinking through

to build a wall of vowels
a skyline of consonants
with words that show up before me
and make them permanent

this cascade of pixels
and its undulating form
of somewhat rhyming towers
must be the closest to my norm

Shatter



everything just
feels unkind
feels like I'm lost
in someone else's mind

all around me
seems a little unsavoury
dangerously decayed
requiring bravery

these painted walls
these well adorned doors
are full of traps and falls
hiding unfriendly floors

attempting to digest
or touch on any part
of this saccharine world
now seems contemptuously harsh


Sunday, October 20, 2013

Lock and key



toes and legs
forever entwined

teeth meet necks
or what they can find

rampant scents
clouding up the mind

sound of breaths
both yours mouth and mine

coursing blood
dripping sweat lines

quiet moans
counting down the time

touch of tongue
a roll of the eyes

searching fingers
reach the end of the line

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

No one else needed

there's a certain beauty
in the arms of solitude.

a face often forgotten
in throngs of such magnitude.

when presented by force
it may seem the cruelest fate.

but when borne from choice
there are few joys as great.

i confess it requires
a certain kind of inclination

to lock away from the world
and disconnect from the population.

you must promise to ignore
all the threads you are linked to.

you must learn to adore
the silence that could sink you

but i can only assure you
if you do take her as your bride

being alone can become
the thing that keeps you alive


Dreamweave



i could wait
a hundred years

fighting through
a thousand fears

but i will not accept
anything less
than your vision
of perfection

i could die
a hundred deaths

patiently count
a million breaths

but i cannot escape
this hold you have
on every vein
from heart to hand

we could choose
a hundred ways

to live apart
a thousand days

but i can't imagine
losing my mind
unless you decide
to lose it with mine

this will be
our only chance

hold my hand
learn to dance

i will promise
to show you home
where we'll be free
without being alone

so take me
to any turn you can
lead me
don't spurn my hand

and i'll follow
till the end of time
or to the end
when we cannot hide
from the future
we can't depict
and the failure
we try to predict

just stand with me
for a thousand hours

we can count
a million stars

out in the sky
and in your eye
where i can see
damned paradise

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Strangely deranged [3]


Tyler Durden: Where'd you go, psycho boy?
Narrator: I felt like destroying something beautiful.
For the longest time, this fictional emotion was a frightful thing. The naked honesty of it was terrifying to this simple mind. Reading these quotes, or rather ideas, that would drive his thoughts to dark places that were sure to morph him into a darker person. The naivete of his own brain is anyway heavily underrated. It is an easily influenced organ, changing to adapt and shifting as a response to the slightest of external stimuli. The brain that wishes to think is more susceptible to inception. Because it is already willing to accept as many new ideas as possible, it can pass off another's thought as it's own with callous justification. It is a waiting receptor. An open port. Which will take any ship in the storm. For him, it is easier to just let these ideas be injected so that there may be someone to blame when the cards fall down. Even if it is the one person who does the best job of clearing his mind in the first place. Which brings us to the point of his dilemma.

If you love someone, wholly and truly, unlike anyone who you've ever had a shred of feelings for. More than even your mother. If you find someone who sparks this insane emotion in you and by some miracle you evoke the same in their very soul, does it matter if your bodies unite? Is a physical bond needed to consummate two souls that vibrate at the same wavelength? Or will it be a shallow confession to say an orgasm is equivalent to heartfelt love?

Admittedly, the honest answer will differ from person to person. But does wanting someone in every way possible make you a worse human being? Intercourse has always been the accepted progression of things, in his case it has often been what begins love instead of what comes next. For the first time the natural order of getting to understand someone before sleeping with them had been followed. Now at the moment of decision he is faced with derision from these unanswerable questions.

If a relationship of sex without love is hollow, what is this love without a physical connection categorized under? Does it qualify at all by the dominant definition of loving another? In his experience he knows that no love lasts. It needs a battle every now and then. Like evolution fights it's predecessor, love takes on the current situation and attacks it to be pushed to the next level at the cost of blood, tears and tears. Naturally, at some point it will reach a stage where the fight is for more than the equation between two people. It becomes a war with who you are.

That is evolution. That is inescapable. But how much can he change for someone he is undoubtedly in love with? Can he suppress his instincts, these animal urges, and follow in the footsteps of love like a blind man being led by a vicious seeing dog? After having seen the precious life that being with someone can offer, can he kill the demon within him to make room for the monsters of both their worlds?

Maybe his whole idea of love is warped like a brain on salvia. If all love is temporary, why struggle? If no love is complete, why search for relationship utopia? There is nothing that can answer these questions for him. There is no one who can change the way things are. Putting himself in her shoes, the empathy for her fear is easy to feel. The dread of finally submitting the one thing she truly owns for herself can be understood. Justified even.

Then why does he feel so horrible? Reduced to emulating a leech that tries to suck every iota of life and joy from her. If he truly loves her, he should stop making her cry. He would do well to simply step back to the shadows he came from, instead of beating down on the effort and eventually destroying the one beautiful thing in his arms.

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Incurable



honestly
sincerely
truly
i am

madly
mutely
acutely
i am

helpless like
the early worm
i am

hopeless and
in a whirl
i am

fully
wholly
in the jaws
i am

quickly
silently
without a pause
i am

hung and drawn
a marionette
i am

out of control
you can bet
i am

at the mercy
on the sword
i am

hanging on
by a word
i am

insolently
against the crowd
i am

incredibly
without a doubt
i am

without a fight
without a sound
i am

nose to stone
ear to the ground
i am

incurable
i am
immutable
i am
invincible
and in disbelief
i am

by the heart
by a thread
by the gods
i am

blind in faith
against the odds
i am

where do i start
to say how much
i am

hungry for it
for your touch
i am