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Infiniti and RE:flectionInfinity and Reflection
I thrusted my ticket at the collector and climbed past him before he could say all aboard. I didn't really care if I had the ticket stump, it's not like I'm ever going to forget where I'm going, nor do I really care what train I'm taking, or what seat I'm assigned; it's not like I'm really going anywhere. Now sure it sounds narcissistic, not really considering that people want their private space that they paid for, with thin walls of supposed separation, between them and the next. Honestly they only worked because people wanted them to. Regardless of who cares and who doesn't, that doesn't matter as a single passenger. Whatever booth I go to there will be people there, and they might feel intruded on, but no action is taken due to the fact that nothing on the train really provides them true privacy, and everybody knows it. And this simple fact renders me capable to watch the people I'm sitting with, listen to the people next door, and try to make any form of co
Oblivion Rests HereOblivion Rests Here
i have gathered my congregation,
and today you witness my church.
we are spirits, wandering ghosts,
souls holding hands
falling, spreading like rain
racing down windowpanes.
we are a mosaic of loose threads
falling from old scarves,
shrapnel that fell from fireworks,
leaves scattered across mud grain,
and ashes forgotten in wildfires.
but the forgotten souls sew love together,
wrapping whispers and skin
around each other like tornadoes.
and we rain down our message
like the King himself has touched down.
strands of hair, empty fingers, fluttering arms
all find themselves filled with warmth
in free rein, the sky embracing our veins
as we hold space
with c(h)ords of culminating ardor,
vocal cords strumming chants of freedom.
we sing louder than any choir
and hold each other tighter
than any thread count could.
tactile, textile, tensile
strength, we expose entities
with tractile virtue,
healing the exiled.
send Muhammad, Yahweh, Al
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
Soles (Forest Girl)Soles (Forest Girl)
i didn’t believe in carving initials into trees.
i always told you that was corny to me.
i told you i was a city boy,
comfortable in car drafts
and gleaming lights
that dilute natural shine.
to the sight of airplanes,
police cars and helicopters
than anything else.
but you dreamed of wings
so much bigger than aspect ratio,
so much wider.
you were higher.
so that day you took me there,
i knew i was out of my element.
your forest stories teased me;
sitting on the edge of your shoe soles.
and that riverbank that you tiptoed on.
little smirk always flashing your white pearls
when you were whisking through this place.
holding my hand in a tight grip
as you gave me a tour of your hidden burrow.
i had never been so in--
and out of place before.
the atmosphere was brisk
glancing the hairs on my neck,
goosebumps rising on my skin
as i swore feathers fell from your shoulders.
purple streaks nuzzle orange bands
that hold together golden twines
The Cracks Of RealityI traced the tips of my fingers over her porcelain
Felt the skin raise in bumps of sensation.
My mouth fit so well into the crook of her neck
And as her her eyes closed, her breathing shaky,
I found myself swallowing and my heart beating twice as fast.
As her hips rolled into me, as her nails clenched into the sheets,
She told me once more that she loved me, and I assured her I felt the same.
But then reality came, settling into the cracks of my fantasies.
And she slipped from my fingers.
And I was alone.
homesick for childhoodshe was a carefree little girl
with smiles hidden deep down
in her pockets, and she'd only
give them out to the most deserving.
when the quarter hour of her life
struck, however, things changed.
her world was painted black
on accident, millions of shades
turned ashy due to a sickness
that breeds on those empty
spaces between words.
she was dropped into summer
covered in homemade scars,
and with summer, her innocence
was eaten away.
pinned to a bed
like prey, she watched herself
consumed into another
(this world is the 7 a.m. frost
left on winter windows.
and it scares me)
stupid love poems for stupid boys.he was the
smoke in my
saved for when
i'm so lonely
that i cannot
but the problem
with giving your
heart to a boy
with a pack of
for ribs is that
he will want your
well– and after
all that blood and
blue lip kisses,
he will leave you
with a coughing
lighter and a
burnt tongue (but
it's really a great
the days spent on the front stepsevery time you rip the lid off
the shell of styrofoam
questions your motives.
every secret you whisper into her naphthalene
stays there. it dies a little
as protein is scrambled. home is not a place.
her curve is ejected
as unidentified. it is bile
rolling back, the sheet of ebbing tide.
you always speak of horses
armoured, whisky clattering on their breath,
kingdoms burning and knights
riding off into the valley of deep sleep
you always speak of ships
leaving, pearly cord
as a farewell extending from coast
to hull forming an image of crying Mary
it shines in front of you
it calls out your name
yahwehIn fifteen hours I will be strung, pelvis
to sternum, ready to be struck
stomach aching to sing -
There was once when I was whole,
full and stretched to breaking,
I have been a giant in my own skin &
I was not enough to be loved.
& now, finger to thumb, you
swallow my spine in your palms
play my bones,
play my bones,
play my bones //
I am rising to throb
& thud & thrum
of pulse and breath and music
of mantra spilt-spoken,
smeared sacred over wrists
written with sweat & sex,
Muscles tensed for every chord,
Herein is the hallelujah -
You alone, you alone, you,
Hollow my belly and carve me
until I am fluted, crying out
between your hands
I have been too much to love,
every wire & tendon pulled loose
, I have been too much
& now you are here
& you play my bones
until the giant in my skin
becomes a rhythm
until I finally feel
I am enough!
You move me,
spine swallowed and sequestered,
I become holy beneath you
I was too much to love:
The UniverseThen suddenly there was matter.
There was time, there was life.
From the unfathomable nothing sprung forth our universe.
Our earth was born,
she, an angry mass of volcanoes and storms.
And life, oh that miracle, rose from the non-space.
A single microorganism,
whose name we will never know,
began turning the Evolutionary Wheel.
Earth had many inhabitants.
But here and now, she houses us.
Homo sapiens, her most gifted child.
We have made her surface angry as the beginning.
Machines of war replace the storm,
death flourishes in the garden of life.
In a hundred-thousand years our plights will matter not.
If the Homo sapiens lives still, he will be alien.
His old achievements as pathetic as the discovery of fire.
Even he will eventually cease to exist.
Several million years will rob him of his humanity,
whether through death or the persistence of the Wheel.
Billions of years will pass then.
Andromeda will embrace the Milky Way,
their fervent dance sending shockwaves through their solar sys
A walk in the ParkUnder the trees, and beneath the rainfall
the earth and air received it's cleansing.
Through the woods, a path, or a small clearing
among trees, narrow, accepting, and covered as a wound.
I walked along and redundantly thought
like a ticking clock: taunting my attempt of
resistance to break this ever-lasting cycle of
trepidation. Breathing in the rainy air I searched
and found findings of day, yesterday, and tomorrow
which further clouded and concealed the purpose of this walk.
A fallen tree, change of grass, and thick brush
which marked my destination and also hid the way,
were just as soaked and dripping as the leaves of
the willow trees which lay before me and clearly
have a long sympathy, continue to simply weep with me
like a bird whom is trapped in cage. My body was enveloped
in the feeling, my heart beat as a clock ticks backwards.
I bolted out of the house of willows.
But the helpless sprint wasn't out of weep,
it was of the grey clouds lifting, and the cease of rain.
AndromedaAmongst the darkened skies
Brightened by only starlight
Field & Sea.
Gravity is only an afterthought
Hilltops become ladders into the sky while
Inferior planets stare down upon the Earth
Jealous of such simplicity yet contemplating grandeur.
Keppler only thought of science
Linear, elliptical, movement…
Mythology had no such thoughts
Neptune & Nebulas both inhabit space
Orbiting across the lonely darkness
Probably never worried about mundane things
Questioning their existence
Right now or for all eternity such as us.
Shooting stars make us joyful while
Terminator is an otherworldly spectacle
Unknown to all those hidden in their houses
Various stars await us outside
Waiting to play like we did before
Xenagogue & inviting
Youthful but ancient curiosities.
Zenith induced euphoria continues until daylight…
dead dog julyI.
the summer heat lays limp in the city’s lap,
breathing long oppressive breaths.
it does not even lift its lolling head
to bark out hoarse indignancy
when a strange man brings the mail.
there might be heavy rain today,
brought by some swollen, murmuring cloud.
the world will whirl and howl,
then settle down,
to die a little more.
o, quickly, love,
press your back against the wall in fear
as the universe spreads her arms and
shuts her eyes
and starts to summon the end of all things.
come with me
to the place of windows full of speechless afternoon
hot windy whispers of half-formed solutions and resolutions,
sweltering sunlit meadows we’ll wander and then forget.
o quickly, love,
let’s to the season of forgetting
and unwind all of our harshest memories
and fill the universe’s mouth
with mute cotton.
i’ll whisper these words to you some evening
with all my exigency in the hand i rest on your arm—
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