AGAIN
On sunny days you
Forget about the rain and
Open the windows
Then the monsoon comes
Carries you into the ocean
And you drown again
Forget about the rain and
Open the windows
Then the monsoon comes
Carries you into the ocean
And you drown again
PHASES
I want to grow old together with you
watch the seasons come and go
feel love and loss, paradise and pain
but in my head no sunrise
is worth the suffering of the sunset
and the desert never ends
how do I hold on
when the promise of the future
snaps under the weight of the present?
you tell me life comes in phases
but it has been a lifetime since the last full moon
and I am tired of waiting
watch the seasons come and go
feel love and loss, paradise and pain
but in my head no sunrise
is worth the suffering of the sunset
and the desert never ends
how do I hold on
when the promise of the future
snaps under the weight of the present?
you tell me life comes in phases
but it has been a lifetime since the last full moon
and I am tired of waiting
HOME
there was a little girl who lived in a beautiful house
built by towering oaks and douglas firs
green like the emeralds that slept beneath the soil
and fed the sweet, singing sugar maples.
home was where her heart flew free
with the eagles, the crows, the chickadees
synced in rhythm and in rhyme,
they danced to the beat of the wind.
the fountains burst with inspirational wonder
the rivers ran with hopes and dreams
her ambition lit up the sky in iridescent blues
her passion painted the grasses with gold –
the little girl was happy, and her joy radiated
into everything she touched with her soul.
when the little girl grew up, she had to leave
through no choice, nor fault, of her own
it simply happened: a sinuous road took her
and she followed.
she found herself lost in the world
strange clouds, strange lands, strange faces
she wandered along titanium streets
quill in hand, but no ink to write with.
she took refuge in mediocrity –
bathed in melancholy, survived on nostalgia.
she stopped chasing butterflies and
forgot the names of the flowers.
she slept under artificial stars
no constellations; they were all the same.
fulfilled someone else’s dream.
woke up to a thousand flickering suns.
she lost her sense of adventure
settled for pictures over memories
traded the wanderlust for prestige.
one day, she looked into the still waters
of an acidic, acrid pool and
no longer recognized herself –
so she set off to find the lost one.
there is now a little girl –
older, but her youth remains true.
her brown eyes, slightly faded,
seek out the sunrise.
her feet carry her over deserts and seas,
across tundras and forests,
through cities and wastelands.
her heart, worn and weary, but beating,
searches everlastingly for home.
built by towering oaks and douglas firs
green like the emeralds that slept beneath the soil
and fed the sweet, singing sugar maples.
home was where her heart flew free
with the eagles, the crows, the chickadees
synced in rhythm and in rhyme,
they danced to the beat of the wind.
the fountains burst with inspirational wonder
the rivers ran with hopes and dreams
her ambition lit up the sky in iridescent blues
her passion painted the grasses with gold –
the little girl was happy, and her joy radiated
into everything she touched with her soul.
when the little girl grew up, she had to leave
through no choice, nor fault, of her own
it simply happened: a sinuous road took her
and she followed.
she found herself lost in the world
strange clouds, strange lands, strange faces
she wandered along titanium streets
quill in hand, but no ink to write with.
she took refuge in mediocrity –
bathed in melancholy, survived on nostalgia.
she stopped chasing butterflies and
forgot the names of the flowers.
she slept under artificial stars
no constellations; they were all the same.
fulfilled someone else’s dream.
woke up to a thousand flickering suns.
she lost her sense of adventure
settled for pictures over memories
traded the wanderlust for prestige.
one day, she looked into the still waters
of an acidic, acrid pool and
no longer recognized herself –
so she set off to find the lost one.
there is now a little girl –
older, but her youth remains true.
her brown eyes, slightly faded,
seek out the sunrise.
her feet carry her over deserts and seas,
across tundras and forests,
through cities and wastelands.
her heart, worn and weary, but beating,
searches everlastingly for home.
I WOULD LIKE TO
i would like to –
listen to the passing trains
without tying myself to the tracks
watch the sunset from the parking garage
without flinging myself off the rooftop
wander down these serpentine highways
without hurtling past the cliff’s edge
live a little, try my best
without having already given up.
listen to the passing trains
without tying myself to the tracks
watch the sunset from the parking garage
without flinging myself off the rooftop
wander down these serpentine highways
without hurtling past the cliff’s edge
live a little, try my best
without having already given up.
MAKE ME A BELIEVER
if religion is your saviour then i’d like to have some
of whatever you’re drinking – wine? tequila? vodka?
a highball, please – don’t care which, just make one for me.
make me a believer and i’ll give you all i have
i’d like to bury my head in the sand and see the sky underneath.
the indifference of the universe calms me because i don’t matter
and neither do you, but you like to think that you do.
where did we come from? where are we going?
none of this matters.
our minds can wander into the future
while dragging the past behind us
but the present is our only salvation.
heaven is hell in disguise –
a mythic creature in a foreign land.
we chase hemlock at the end of the rainbow but
the leprechaun does not let us in.
did you find god in pretty white lines?
does the high propel you into the clouds?
do the angels sing for you in golden cathedrals?
let me in to your exclusive club –
i don’t have money, but i can give you
my body –
and my soul,
though the latter isn’t worth much.
someday, when all of this is over, maybe we’ll meet
where the oceans drip mercury from the skies
and the sinners bathe in our blood.
together we can slit the throat of mother earth
bleed her dry as her people drown in her rivers.
we can toast to the forgotten unbelievers –
to the abandoned angels –
to the unremembered renouncers –
to you, who will realize that it was all a façade.
may we be forgiven by the gods who have forsaken us.
of whatever you’re drinking – wine? tequila? vodka?
a highball, please – don’t care which, just make one for me.
make me a believer and i’ll give you all i have
i’d like to bury my head in the sand and see the sky underneath.
the indifference of the universe calms me because i don’t matter
and neither do you, but you like to think that you do.
where did we come from? where are we going?
none of this matters.
our minds can wander into the future
while dragging the past behind us
but the present is our only salvation.
heaven is hell in disguise –
a mythic creature in a foreign land.
we chase hemlock at the end of the rainbow but
the leprechaun does not let us in.
did you find god in pretty white lines?
does the high propel you into the clouds?
do the angels sing for you in golden cathedrals?
let me in to your exclusive club –
i don’t have money, but i can give you
my body –
and my soul,
though the latter isn’t worth much.
someday, when all of this is over, maybe we’ll meet
where the oceans drip mercury from the skies
and the sinners bathe in our blood.
together we can slit the throat of mother earth
bleed her dry as her people drown in her rivers.
we can toast to the forgotten unbelievers –
to the abandoned angels –
to the unremembered renouncers –
to you, who will realize that it was all a façade.
may we be forgiven by the gods who have forsaken us.
UNFINISHED
she walked, without aim, into the ocean.
it wasn’t intentional, nor spontaneous – she just did.
one moment she was
and the next she was not.
the waves wander on
the winds whistle above
a life unfinished in this universe of no resolutions
it wasn’t intentional, nor spontaneous – she just did.
one moment she was
and the next she was not.
the waves wander on
the winds whistle above
a life unfinished in this universe of no resolutions
UNTIL
i’d like to drown in these desert sands –
throw my body into these desolate canyons
where water and wind will erode my flesh
until i am beautiful.
i’d like to dance my way up these mountains –
sing requiems into the sapphire sky
tilt my papery face towards the sun
until my tears are dry.
i am starved for validation i will never find
i have never been worthy of my own love.
i am judge, jury, and executioner of my own trial
and i will always find myself guilty.
so i’d like to hang myself from the joshua tree –
set fire to its bayonet leaves
bury my sorrows in its ageless roots
until i am happy.
throw my body into these desolate canyons
where water and wind will erode my flesh
until i am beautiful.
i’d like to dance my way up these mountains –
sing requiems into the sapphire sky
tilt my papery face towards the sun
until my tears are dry.
i am starved for validation i will never find
i have never been worthy of my own love.
i am judge, jury, and executioner of my own trial
and i will always find myself guilty.
so i’d like to hang myself from the joshua tree –
set fire to its bayonet leaves
bury my sorrows in its ageless roots
until i am happy.
∞
time rains down with the endless sun
the desert drowns me in its sorrowful sands
i cannot solve the sphinx’s puzzles
the sea calls out to me from within the conch
i follow white lines to white lies on foamy beaches
overdose on corpses underneath the stars
my existence can be traced on a single leaf
veins that run with forest ink, grounded and true
i taste the soil that pours through my fingers
the wind waltzes with the weeping willows
wild beasts stomp to the beat of the clouds
everything is cyan but i only see in charcoal
i buried myself in the graveyard tomorrow
the hourglass shatters inwards, screaming
my mother serves hemlock at my funeral
paradise or purgatory maybe they’re all the same
we hurtle towards death at technicolour speed
chasing infinity in this finite world
the desert drowns me in its sorrowful sands
i cannot solve the sphinx’s puzzles
the sea calls out to me from within the conch
i follow white lines to white lies on foamy beaches
overdose on corpses underneath the stars
my existence can be traced on a single leaf
veins that run with forest ink, grounded and true
i taste the soil that pours through my fingers
the wind waltzes with the weeping willows
wild beasts stomp to the beat of the clouds
everything is cyan but i only see in charcoal
i buried myself in the graveyard tomorrow
the hourglass shatters inwards, screaming
my mother serves hemlock at my funeral
paradise or purgatory maybe they’re all the same
we hurtle towards death at technicolour speed
chasing infinity in this finite world
WINTERGREEN
let me rest my weary head on
the gossamer wings of the stars
i am tired
but the indifference of the universe
is safe haven from fate
my words repeat themselves like
the patterns of leaves in the wind
clichés are like slices of blueberry pie
sweet and satisfactory, cushiony
but simultaneously bland
let me close my eyes for a while
as the birds fly south for winter
and glacial cycles come and go
the sun never shines when i’m inspired
wintergreen on black birch sing
euphoric songs on my tongue
my thoughts dance for you but
i traded my voice for a mermaid tail
and the waves drown me out
i tumble through a twisted timeline
of cacophony and unmatched rhymes
i am tired
but small sands in the hourglass
keep noise out of my brain
the gossamer wings of the stars
i am tired
but the indifference of the universe
is safe haven from fate
my words repeat themselves like
the patterns of leaves in the wind
clichés are like slices of blueberry pie
sweet and satisfactory, cushiony
but simultaneously bland
let me close my eyes for a while
as the birds fly south for winter
and glacial cycles come and go
the sun never shines when i’m inspired
wintergreen on black birch sing
euphoric songs on my tongue
my thoughts dance for you but
i traded my voice for a mermaid tail
and the waves drown me out
i tumble through a twisted timeline
of cacophony and unmatched rhymes
i am tired
but small sands in the hourglass
keep noise out of my brain
IN THE NIGHT
in the night, my heart comes to a standstill. i drown myself in vodka and sleeping pills, force myself to stay awake so i can watch the moon crawl across the sky. did artemis ever feel inferior to apollo? did she crawl with dirt-stained hands and drag her reddened knees across white marble tiles? did she offer her innocence to distract them from the stars she killed?
the katydids scream for me because i cut my vocal cords with the razor i use to draw on my wrists. my art is full of red because the dye is free. when the sun is gone, i am a desolate wasteland, but the night is also my salvation. i am most sober when i hover on the threshold between reality and dreams – perhaps this exhaustion is my new normal and i am most awake in wavering states of being.
i think of tomorrow and hope that it never comes.
the katydids scream for me because i cut my vocal cords with the razor i use to draw on my wrists. my art is full of red because the dye is free. when the sun is gone, i am a desolate wasteland, but the night is also my salvation. i am most sober when i hover on the threshold between reality and dreams – perhaps this exhaustion is my new normal and i am most awake in wavering states of being.
i think of tomorrow and hope that it never comes.
SNAPSHOTS
i . cap and gown down a pathway adorned in purple and gold
moo goes the president and the bagpipes as we clutch weighted papers
gliding weightlessly over marble and concrete
the procession continues and i smile at the sky because i know where i am going
i look forward to roast duck and mangoes that summer
to admiration and praise from strangers i am supposed to know
‘congratulations – i wish my son could be like you’
ii. what makes a long-term relationship ‘long-term’?
whatever the qualities, we’ve hit them all
our hopes and dreams and loaded aspirations align – practically, anyway
he bends like a willow in the wind to my whims
am i manipulative?
perhaps, but is this inherently bad if he follows by choice?
some things i will never be able to offer
he tells me that’s okay and i hope he isn’t settling
iii. i walk down the aisle to pictures at an exhibition
(the piano version, mussorgsky)
clinging onto my daddy’s arm the same way i’ve been doing for over two decades
i don’t need to look over at him to know he is emotional
my mother is a constant, front row, with tears in her eyes
everyone else is faceless but smiling
i beam widely, hoping they do not hear the clinking of my ice cold feet
to happiness, until death do us part
iv. city of my dreams is a dream for a reason
shimmering and splendid
a love affair between the metropolis and the sea
blessed by the mountains and great wild beasts
these emotions cannot be described by words so i do not try
i do not poeticize that which cannot be written and
these lenses cannot capture what my eyes see
v. she is the spitting image of her father, but with my crooked smile
dark hair, with cedar bark eyes that could light up the world
i love her so much it hurts
i did not think myself selfless enough to be a good mother
and i still do not
but my parents are a testament to sacrifice –
to using parts of two lives to create another where the whole is greater
than the sum of its fragments
vi. my white petrof sits in the parlour
pristine keys, newly tuned, an ivory tower in a forest green palace
my fingers run haphazardly over these icy steps
old friend, how we’ve changed
i no longer remember the contours of your body
but i will never forget the way you made me feel
though my fingers no longer keep up with your dance
my heart still sings votre tombeau in toccata
je t’aime, mon amour, je t'aimerai toujours
vii. do as i say not as i do
be the kindness i exude but do not delve too deeply into my mind
drink in my patience and tolerance – am i happy or merely okay?
the distinction does not matter; i forget before i forgive
when i fall asleep for the last time and leave it all to you
remember my façade
these are my snapshots of the future
taken on a polaroid i bought days ago
the wall remains unfinished but the weight of what could be is already
breaking the string
moo goes the president and the bagpipes as we clutch weighted papers
gliding weightlessly over marble and concrete
the procession continues and i smile at the sky because i know where i am going
i look forward to roast duck and mangoes that summer
to admiration and praise from strangers i am supposed to know
‘congratulations – i wish my son could be like you’
ii. what makes a long-term relationship ‘long-term’?
whatever the qualities, we’ve hit them all
our hopes and dreams and loaded aspirations align – practically, anyway
he bends like a willow in the wind to my whims
am i manipulative?
perhaps, but is this inherently bad if he follows by choice?
some things i will never be able to offer
he tells me that’s okay and i hope he isn’t settling
iii. i walk down the aisle to pictures at an exhibition
(the piano version, mussorgsky)
clinging onto my daddy’s arm the same way i’ve been doing for over two decades
i don’t need to look over at him to know he is emotional
my mother is a constant, front row, with tears in her eyes
everyone else is faceless but smiling
i beam widely, hoping they do not hear the clinking of my ice cold feet
to happiness, until death do us part
iv. city of my dreams is a dream for a reason
shimmering and splendid
a love affair between the metropolis and the sea
blessed by the mountains and great wild beasts
these emotions cannot be described by words so i do not try
i do not poeticize that which cannot be written and
these lenses cannot capture what my eyes see
v. she is the spitting image of her father, but with my crooked smile
dark hair, with cedar bark eyes that could light up the world
i love her so much it hurts
i did not think myself selfless enough to be a good mother
and i still do not
but my parents are a testament to sacrifice –
to using parts of two lives to create another where the whole is greater
than the sum of its fragments
vi. my white petrof sits in the parlour
pristine keys, newly tuned, an ivory tower in a forest green palace
my fingers run haphazardly over these icy steps
old friend, how we’ve changed
i no longer remember the contours of your body
but i will never forget the way you made me feel
though my fingers no longer keep up with your dance
my heart still sings votre tombeau in toccata
je t’aime, mon amour, je t'aimerai toujours
vii. do as i say not as i do
be the kindness i exude but do not delve too deeply into my mind
drink in my patience and tolerance – am i happy or merely okay?
the distinction does not matter; i forget before i forgive
when i fall asleep for the last time and leave it all to you
remember my façade
these are my snapshots of the future
taken on a polaroid i bought days ago
the wall remains unfinished but the weight of what could be is already
breaking the string
pictures of us, printed on weighted paper, coloured by ink from jesup, first floor
the first and final draft of my poli sci essay, stapled diagonally on the top left corner
a neatly arranged bookshelf with all of the literature i sometimes pretended to read
a factory-reset laptop with a translucent green case and a peeling keyboard cover
the pencil case i’ve had since the beginning of high school, worn but usable
snowflake & smart, slightly grey (last bathed in middle school by my mother)
a skull from some market in china, the one where i got my green two dollar watch
tiny star stickers on the ceiling that glow fluorescent yellow when the lights are off
a potted lucky bamboo plant, with one stalk missing and curled, fragile leaves
unopened lsat practice exams and a cute egg timer in front of the drafty windows
the green dress i wanted to be buried in until i found a better one online, and
the order form for the better dress, six hundred dollars, the most i’ve ever spent
pieces of the note i tried to write eight years ago, on paper and out of my head –
evidence of the life i’d built
what you will not find: thirteen reasons why i threw it all away
the first and final draft of my poli sci essay, stapled diagonally on the top left corner
a neatly arranged bookshelf with all of the literature i sometimes pretended to read
a factory-reset laptop with a translucent green case and a peeling keyboard cover
the pencil case i’ve had since the beginning of high school, worn but usable
snowflake & smart, slightly grey (last bathed in middle school by my mother)
a skull from some market in china, the one where i got my green two dollar watch
tiny star stickers on the ceiling that glow fluorescent yellow when the lights are off
a potted lucky bamboo plant, with one stalk missing and curled, fragile leaves
unopened lsat practice exams and a cute egg timer in front of the drafty windows
the green dress i wanted to be buried in until i found a better one online, and
the order form for the better dress, six hundred dollars, the most i’ve ever spent
pieces of the note i tried to write eight years ago, on paper and out of my head –
evidence of the life i’d built
what you will not find: thirteen reasons why i threw it all away
WHAT YOU WILL FIND
quiet summer mornings before the heat arrives
watching the waking sun stretch over the horizon
the clear river water running through my fingers
the smell of wintergreen on black birch branches
blooming hydrangeas in the garden, pink and blue
your smile when i tell you how much i adore you
listening to your voice speak of these moments
the look in your eyes when your mind is far away
the warmth of your hands when they grasp mine
memories of you that drive demons out of my head
tahiti, bora bora, baby blue skies and sapphire waters
eating pizza in rome and walking through the colosseum
kissing you under the bridge at sunset to ringing bells
long drives down highways to the edge of the world
tasting my childhood, one streetside food stall at a time
the thought of hurting everyone i love when-if i jump
my funeral, the eulogies, the questions—”why?”
a thousand “what ifs?” and “what should i have done?”
that i won’t be there to reassure you: “nothing”--
because you were already my everything.
watching the waking sun stretch over the horizon
the clear river water running through my fingers
the smell of wintergreen on black birch branches
blooming hydrangeas in the garden, pink and blue
your smile when i tell you how much i adore you
listening to your voice speak of these moments
the look in your eyes when your mind is far away
the warmth of your hands when they grasp mine
memories of you that drive demons out of my head
tahiti, bora bora, baby blue skies and sapphire waters
eating pizza in rome and walking through the colosseum
kissing you under the bridge at sunset to ringing bells
long drives down highways to the edge of the world
tasting my childhood, one streetside food stall at a time
the thought of hurting everyone i love when-if i jump
my funeral, the eulogies, the questions—”why?”
a thousand “what ifs?” and “what should i have done?”
that i won’t be there to reassure you: “nothing”--
because you were already my everything.
REASONS
THE FOREIGNER
i don’t like being alone
but the creatures here do not speak
the words that roll off my tongue so easily
they do not understand my expressions
nor do i theirs
the creatures here have oblique heads
eyes in the shape of saturn’s rings
and almond mouths they do not use
but my eyes are made of stardust and
my mouth speaks for my soul
the world is strange here
the days do not match the nights
the shadows outshine their masters
and sometimes time goes backwards
there are no clocks
they gave me a name that is not mine
and placed me in a palace of lights
their jewels do not shine like ours
their walls are not really made of stone
i wear a crown of blueberries
they smile a lot
no teeth, only small beetles that
pour out of the holes in their bodies
they smell like daisies in the rain
like intoxicatingly sweet rice wine
i made a friend yesterday or
perhaps a century ago but it disappeared
not that i really needed it anyway
the creatures gave me a mirror to look at
and that’s all i really need
i do not understand their customs
sometimes they visit after the third sun
sometimes they offer me dandelions
sometimes they make me pray to their deities
other times they take my skin
i don’t like how they hurt me
but pain is a part of existence
the creatures tell me so
they tell me this every time they
carve tattoos onto my eyeballs
i am happy here
the creatures tell me so
this is what happiness is because
it is happiness when i am alive and it
is happiness because i am alive
but the creatures here do not speak
the words that roll off my tongue so easily
they do not understand my expressions
nor do i theirs
the creatures here have oblique heads
eyes in the shape of saturn’s rings
and almond mouths they do not use
but my eyes are made of stardust and
my mouth speaks for my soul
the world is strange here
the days do not match the nights
the shadows outshine their masters
and sometimes time goes backwards
there are no clocks
they gave me a name that is not mine
and placed me in a palace of lights
their jewels do not shine like ours
their walls are not really made of stone
i wear a crown of blueberries
they smile a lot
no teeth, only small beetles that
pour out of the holes in their bodies
they smell like daisies in the rain
like intoxicatingly sweet rice wine
i made a friend yesterday or
perhaps a century ago but it disappeared
not that i really needed it anyway
the creatures gave me a mirror to look at
and that’s all i really need
i do not understand their customs
sometimes they visit after the third sun
sometimes they offer me dandelions
sometimes they make me pray to their deities
other times they take my skin
i don’t like how they hurt me
but pain is a part of existence
the creatures tell me so
they tell me this every time they
carve tattoos onto my eyeballs
i am happy here
the creatures tell me so
this is what happiness is because
it is happiness when i am alive and it
is happiness because i am alive
NOISE
my head swims with the secrets
of oceans and
rivers and
trees
the weight of the world rests on – above – within – my head.
i hear the train screaming at
five thirty in the morning as i lie
in between dreams and
nightmares
sometimes time goes backwards.
if i could take the sun in the sky
maybe you would notice that the light is gone
but i am the moon that reflects the sun and thus
will always shine
my eyes glow with something that is not mine.
do not follow me to the river
where i bathe in the blood and tears of
those who once cared
do not atone for my so-called sins.
my heart pulses with the promises
of canaries and
lavender and
blueberries
it screams for ghosts beyond my perception.
of oceans and
rivers and
trees
the weight of the world rests on – above – within – my head.
i hear the train screaming at
five thirty in the morning as i lie
in between dreams and
nightmares
sometimes time goes backwards.
if i could take the sun in the sky
maybe you would notice that the light is gone
but i am the moon that reflects the sun and thus
will always shine
my eyes glow with something that is not mine.
do not follow me to the river
where i bathe in the blood and tears of
those who once cared
do not atone for my so-called sins.
my heart pulses with the promises
of canaries and
lavender and
blueberries
it screams for ghosts beyond my perception.
HYDRANGEAS
her winter laugh was different
from her summer smile
which was starry and shimmering
her winter laugh spoke of
hydrangeas and cherry carnations
blackbirds and blueberry herons
her winter laugh enunciated
every syllable and every line
her summer smile slurred
into autumn until the sun
went into the mountains and
her winter laugh echoed
bringing the land back to life
from her summer smile
which was starry and shimmering
her winter laugh spoke of
hydrangeas and cherry carnations
blackbirds and blueberry herons
her winter laugh enunciated
every syllable and every line
her summer smile slurred
into autumn until the sun
went into the mountains and
her winter laugh echoed
bringing the land back to life
DON'T ASK ME IF I'M OKAY
the sun makes me forget the cold, so i open the window and turn off the heat. then the hail comes storming in and time rains down and the pain makes me forget that i ever wanted to live.
i’ve lost decades to nightmares disguised as daydreams. i’ve forgotten how to sleep. my eyes do not close when my heart screams a million light years and i am paralyzed in this shell. i’ve found nightshade but i need you to force it down my throat and into my lungs because my foolish brain does not understand my soul. tell me a joke. i want to smile with my eyes again. i want to remember the things i said the things i felt the things i heard things something anything. i want the smog to go away and the noise in my blood to dissipate.
when i locked up my emotions except for happiness i put the key on the table but it disappeared. i’m sure it’s in a drawer somewhere but i can’t be bothered to look for it. happiness is the only thing that’s necessary so send me a facebook sticker and a crying laughter emoji and we’ll each get on with our day until we meet for dinner at five-thirty pm to complain. but complain, not in the nihilistic existential crisis kind of way. complain, in the happy kind of way, where it’s socially acceptable because ‘i have a ridiculous amount of homework’ is solidarity but ‘i want to be dead’ is not. so after sixty minutes of smiling and reminiscing about tomorrow we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways. you to the real world and i to somewhere i can forget my happy and wake up.
i’m trying to leave, but i’m on one hell of a drug and hungover. give me a lobotomy so that i can smell the pine needles again. i don’t want your cocaine i just wanna get high. take me to the shy places. let me kiss the people with no faces.
i’ve lost decades to nightmares disguised as daydreams. i’ve forgotten how to sleep. my eyes do not close when my heart screams a million light years and i am paralyzed in this shell. i’ve found nightshade but i need you to force it down my throat and into my lungs because my foolish brain does not understand my soul. tell me a joke. i want to smile with my eyes again. i want to remember the things i said the things i felt the things i heard things something anything. i want the smog to go away and the noise in my blood to dissipate.
when i locked up my emotions except for happiness i put the key on the table but it disappeared. i’m sure it’s in a drawer somewhere but i can’t be bothered to look for it. happiness is the only thing that’s necessary so send me a facebook sticker and a crying laughter emoji and we’ll each get on with our day until we meet for dinner at five-thirty pm to complain. but complain, not in the nihilistic existential crisis kind of way. complain, in the happy kind of way, where it’s socially acceptable because ‘i have a ridiculous amount of homework’ is solidarity but ‘i want to be dead’ is not. so after sixty minutes of smiling and reminiscing about tomorrow we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways. you to the real world and i to somewhere i can forget my happy and wake up.
i’m trying to leave, but i’m on one hell of a drug and hungover. give me a lobotomy so that i can smell the pine needles again. i don’t want your cocaine i just wanna get high. take me to the shy places. let me kiss the people with no faces.
LUCID TECHNICOLOUR KINGDOM
i drank the earth until it was clean
buried the sky beneath the soil
and let the clouds nourish the trees
i dragged the birds into open plains
watched as cattle skipped over streams
and tasted your god in a rice paddy
my amethyst bungalows are made of candies
of amaranth seeds and honeydew hydrangeas
come rest, weary traveller, have some moonseed
i sailed on my umbrella
fed the fire to the chickens
fed the chickens to the bees
the stars brought five seasons
the suns brought ten aquamarines
kings leapt from cradles to graves
i painted the grasses until they were green
sacrificed each blade to a shade of blue
and chiselled their names onto the wind
my shrine to your god has plums and peaches
imbued with the smell of ripened mangoes
come dine, wanderer, on crackling snowberries
i sliced rainbows into leprechaun pieces
threw the colours into shaded alcoves
and discovered a crucifix in saffron sand
i taught the children how to swim in magma
sold them to a collector looking for statues
and bought phoenix eggs with obsidian
drink with me until the moon falls into the tides
pilgrim, you are lost in a lucid technicolour kingdom
follow the willow until the albatross speaks of oysters
wallow in suicide but destroy the nightshade because
your god does not like pyrrhic victories
your god does not like pretty infinities
so give me your gossamer wings and i
who have drunk the earth into open plains i
who have sailed on my umbrella over grasses i
who have sliced rainbows into magma i
will keep you warm in my amethyst bungalow i
will sing you sunflowers and starfruits
your god cried at my shrine
i offered her mangoes and moonseed until
she ruptured and flooded the valleys
then i drank the earth until it was clean
buried the sky beneath the soil
and let the clouds nourish the trees
i dragged the birds into open plains
watched as cattle skipped over streams
and tasted your god in a rice paddy
my amethyst bungalows are made of candies
of amaranth seeds and honeydew hydrangeas
come rest, weary traveller, have some moonseed
i sailed on my umbrella
fed the fire to the chickens
fed the chickens to the bees
the stars brought five seasons
the suns brought ten aquamarines
kings leapt from cradles to graves
i painted the grasses until they were green
sacrificed each blade to a shade of blue
and chiselled their names onto the wind
my shrine to your god has plums and peaches
imbued with the smell of ripened mangoes
come dine, wanderer, on crackling snowberries
i sliced rainbows into leprechaun pieces
threw the colours into shaded alcoves
and discovered a crucifix in saffron sand
i taught the children how to swim in magma
sold them to a collector looking for statues
and bought phoenix eggs with obsidian
drink with me until the moon falls into the tides
pilgrim, you are lost in a lucid technicolour kingdom
follow the willow until the albatross speaks of oysters
wallow in suicide but destroy the nightshade because
your god does not like pyrrhic victories
your god does not like pretty infinities
so give me your gossamer wings and i
who have drunk the earth into open plains i
who have sailed on my umbrella over grasses i
who have sliced rainbows into magma i
will keep you warm in my amethyst bungalow i
will sing you sunflowers and starfruits
your god cried at my shrine
i offered her mangoes and moonseed until
she ruptured and flooded the valleys
then i drank the earth until it was clean