Thursday, September 13, 2012

deep sleeper

i haven't written anything in a long time.

my whole body has been on a cloud. my mind filled with fog for days.
i fell into the bed the other day and was greeted by whiskey breath 
warm, warm skin, feverish.
your hands searching for something you've never found before
my hands searching for something that slipped away long ago

and we're both sick people
because you have to be, to be in so deep
and i don't mean to be melancholic



Saturday, September 1, 2012

ten thousand

it's the way the light hits
it's the softness
when you and i both know it's all in the angles

it's the hollow feeling
it's the worries
the fainting spells

and

well, it isn't pretty


i've got it dripping off my bones.
it isn't purity
it's filth
i'm fucking filthy and
this is the only way i'm going to get clean




Wednesday, August 8, 2012

wild

i've chosen to no longer fight any battles
all i want to do now, is to melt into the open air
give myself to the wilderness and
lie with my cheeks pressed into the warm soft earth
maybe one day i'll be lucky enough to have wildflowers grow
out of the spaces between my ribs
and have birds and feral winds play with my hair
perhaps, the moon would grace my forehead in the nighttime
and my thoughts and my mind would be warm

i want to be still, now.

Friday, July 27, 2012

wine/whine

i long for feelings i've never felt
all i can fucking feel is salt drying on my eyelashes, the push, the pull, and the light. a warm pink tongue, but nothing on the other side. nothing in my head but the sempiternal silence. i want to lose it all in the hazy, the surreal and the vague.

i'm going to hell
i'm high, i'm drunk and your eyes
your eyes say what your hands can't

fuck this, i can't write anymore.








Monday, July 23, 2012

soft

a lucid soul writes poetry by the ocean
thinking of a girl that he met when he was eighteen
and when thunder shakes his bed in the nighttime
he grips to its metal frame


well, you're on my mind, gentle being
i hope the water lulls you to sleep
some day soon you'll kiss the hands of your lover
and dissolve into a blue-coloured dream





Monday, July 9, 2012

paris

i try to guess the waitress' perfume as she bends down,
sets a cup of strong coffee in front of me
i'm dripping wet from walking fourty minutes

i sleep with the windows of the motel wide open
it's still raining, and the cars never stop flying by
i'm trembling under the blankets on the cot

i'm in paris, in paris, in paris.
i wake and take a drag off a gauloise
i'm letting my bones absorb it all


p.s i took this photograph








Thursday, June 28, 2012

3:37 am

birds sing early in the morning, when the moon is out
and the taste of my mistakes is still fresh
but you call and you tell me that you love me
and that you tried to write another poem for me
but you lost your words
i put 'i'm fine, i'm fine' on repeat
and the words crash against the receiver.




Tuesday, June 26, 2012

new

you look at me with those damn blue eyes of yours
and you tuck in the crook of your arm, like a lover
and if you had planted a seed with each kiss you offered me
my body would be a garden untouched by winters
that grows and grows and dissolves into utter lightness

i've hated loving because i'd lose myself in it
but it isn't love until you fall and find yourself in it






Friday, June 15, 2012

nothing

mouthful by mouthful, the honey makes your head spin
with every drop swallowed, the world swims away,
spins away and you're left with nothing but white noise
and you keep wondering who's going to lead you home
and they keep wondering why you're sitting alone on the couch
and you keep wondering why the lights look so pretty
and they keep wondering whether you're here by mistake
and you keep wondering whether they notice you
and they keep wondering whether you notice them




secrets

a ghost watches you from the bathroom counter
watches you fill the tub 
watches you play with the buttons on your shirt
watches the water swallow you whole

'how curious', the ghost thinks
as your kneecaps, like apples,
ripen underneath the murky waves.





Thursday, June 14, 2012

lucky

it's been nice.
the first hours of the morning greet with wild city lights.
my forehead is leaning against the cool glass of a taxi window.

i smile to myself and think about winter-girl, and unicorn-boy
and how they've enticed me more than anyone
simply because they never let me have them for myself.
congratulations. 

and then i think about how lucky i am
because i don't say 'i love you' to anyone before going to sleep
because there are no obligations
only art museums to visit and tea to drink. 

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

wake up

i have no words to write today.
hands have closed around my neck, and i haven't got a care.
i'm in a better place now.

i want to cry because of the sleepless nights and lucid dreams and cheap motels that await me.
i want to cry because i'm no longer drowning.
i want to cry of wanderlust and ecstasy and illumination.
i want to cry because of paris and evan and summer.

it's like i'm waking up from a good night's sleep.


Monday, June 4, 2012

various shades of white

i am convinced that the world around us is formed of several layers of reality.
one of them is solely built of lies.
every day we all add a brick to the wall
'dinner was delicious.'
'you look great in that dress.'
'yes, that felt good.'
'it's okay.'
'yes, i'm happy.'
'of course i love you.'
soon, the walls around myself will become a home.
it'll be the prettiest home, the bricks will be various shades of white.
see how lovely everything becomes when you coat it with lies?
it doesn't matter that who gets trapped inside
everyone outside wins, everyone outside is satisfied.
'what a lovely home you've built.'

Sunday, June 3, 2012

for the birds

a few heartbeats ago, i could have never imagined being who i am today.
i was a broken little girl.
i poured salty tears into wounds that couldn't seem to heal.
it's funny how a person can grow, grow, grow.
it must be all the rain.
it has been raining every day since may turned to june.
and i can't imagine being in a better place.

dear friend, open your window and take the deepest breath
promise me that today, you are going to stop pretending to be someone you're not
instead, you are going to let your soul roam free 
'till it comes home heaving under the weight of the beautiful sights that it has seen. 







 


Sunday, May 27, 2012

fourteen hours

i'm alive.
i'm breathing air.
i ride a bicycle absolutely everywhere.
every week, i get chinese takeout in a crumbling alley off somerset.
i wake on a sunday morning, i make coffee, and i'm out the door.
i'm alive. i'm alive.
in the evenings i spend time in the arboretum
where i fill my lungs with haze and close my eyes and-
i'm conscious. i'm aware. i've got both feet on the ground.







Monday, May 21, 2012

a work of art

i no longer wish to create any form of art.
not after what i saw.

why would you want to mar the beauty of your mind's own creation
by materializing it within the barriers of the 'real' world?
you must understand that you are the work of art.
the work of art is really the inside of your head.

and what kind of witchcraft is this?
what could make the human brain, so proper and structured,
explode into a million of galaxies
offering you an unobstructed view
of a parallel world, just like this one,
but amplified. perfected. uncensored.


Wednesday, May 16, 2012

é l i s e

they took you away from me, once
to a place where only placid safety exists
and you cried and held my hand
and i remember saying i will not cry. i will not cry for her. 
i remember telling you that sometimes
i prayed to god. and sometimes it worked.
in the night, on the rooftop, 
but smoke curled around us like a blanket.
and you thought it was alright.
sister, soul-mate, best friend.

you are a treasure.
you are a kind, kind creature. 
you are an angel. 
and if i had to offer you a part of me - 
you would deserve every speck of light left in my tar-black lungs.
you would deserve the softness left on my fingers
the tenderness left in my soul when all is said and done.
you would deserve every bit of goodness 
a drifter like me could offer.
but you deserve so much more than my love. 
i want nothing more than to keep you safe.
and if you ever need someone to kiss your cheeks when they fill with oceans
or to keep you warm in the winter of your mind-
call on me


Monday, May 7, 2012

growing pains

i'm trying so hard not to consume you.
i met you and you were a free;
and i was trying to be free too.
i thought i knew how to love before
but i did not, and i'm learning every day-
you are not mine and i am not yours
and the moment there is any hint of possession
you must run as fast as you can from me.





Sunday, April 29, 2012

i'm tired

i'm tired of love, and loving.
give me infatuation.
give me admiration.
give me cruel, thoughtless passion.
give me carnal knowledge and give me sin after sin after sin.
give me anything monstrous and thoughtless.
irrational, irrevocable, one-time romances.
just don't give me love, with its pitiful dedications, its trust issues, its poet's tears.
love is for the birds, and i'm barely human.
i've realised how much everyone's happiness depends on other people.
and perhaps i'm far to young to know better,
but my impression is that you cannot be whole without another.
although you are born whole, innocent, a virgin soul-
throughout life, you'll leave parts of yourself behind
in places, people, things.
what is left of one when all is said and done?
how much of oneself does one give away with every separation, every loss, every accomplishment?
although you might think to yourself
i'm fine.
i've got a home, a job, i've got my poetry.
a little part of you will always, always be missing.


Saturday, April 28, 2012

little victories


little victories are
milk swirling in a cup of tea
beds and blankets and the breeze from an open window
cheering with cheap wine in a paper cup
dreaming of paris, skipping school, kissing boys, petting cats on the street.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

insomnia

insomnia has been a part of me for over a year.
self-inflicted, never-ending, darling insomnia.
what happened to you? what happened?
are you leaving me too, old friend?
who am i, without you?

i miss having to only smoke one cigarette before it made me dizzy.
i've thought of putting them out on the soft, peach-skin of my forearm.
on the soft peach-skin of my thigh.

i sit on the roof overlooking my mother's window and tremble.

after-party

you're my best friends at parties.
you're my soulmates when whiskey or gin blurs my speech.
you swear you'll marry me as we exhale green smoke into the night sky.
you kiss my cheeks and hold my hands and we dance dance dance to elvis together.
but you're all subjective.
all of you will be gone next year, or the one after.
you'll be gone and i won't remember you and you won't remember me.
your promises were made as you drowned in vodka.

will any of you think of us running down the dock at the crack of dawn?
of us sleeping between flights of stairs on new year's eve?




Wednesday, March 14, 2012

m e r g u n t

i've been finding myself in a peculiar state of mind.
it's a numbness beyond feeling numb, an utter nothingness.
i feel as if i'm drowning in it, my lungs are filling up with nothingness.

i've been taking breaks from everything.
i don't know how to explain but i haven't been in the proper state of mind for
reading, writing, or watching films.
drawing, painting, creating are different stories altogether.

i feel elated at every little moment of clarity.
every film i'm able to sit through till the end.
every word read (i was able to finish the life of Pi after two months of labor, and i hated it)
at every page in my journal that had the fortune of not being thrown away like garbage.

i won't be around for a long, long time.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

sad little girl

black stains your jacket, stains the pillow.
little fingers, tiny claws gripping to your sleeve.
you're holding a sad little girl in your arms, can't you see?
you're kissing a sad little girl's tears.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

drowning

i tried to save a bit of winter for the coming months.
i tried to press snowflakes between the pages of my journal.
they only made my thoughts run down the page.
they only made them cry.
my mind has been a little leaky ever since.
forgive me.

i'm sorry

i once loved somebody i didn't know.
she tasted like winter and smelled of clean sheets, clean air.
she walked me to the bus, kissed me with her eyes (green, framed by the loveliest set of eyelashes) and under the street lights, promised me a Leonard Cohen song.

we knew each other for a little while after.
we sat under a tree, the grey air was too heavy.
i went home that day and cried myself dry.