i'm scared that
with every passing day, i will
fall a little out of love
and i'm afraid that all of out promises
will softly, calmly
fade away
and we won't even notice
until it is too late.

escapism

i can't wait to leave this broken home.
i can't wait to hear their gasps.
i can't wait to be reckless, drive drunk.
i can't wait for wide eyes, shaky hands.
i can't wait for the midnight swims.
i can't wait to see nude bodies, streamlined by the cold moonlight.
i can't wait to burn (everything, myself, others).
i can't wait for mindless, mindless passion.
i can't wait to sin.
i can't wait for carnal knowledge.
i can't wait to swallow tears (mine or yours).
i can't wait for the feeling of a warm, warm tongue.
i can't wait to be violent.
i can't wait to be fucking unforgiving.

waxing gibbous

as a child, i once saw the moon drowning in a puddle.

on the peach-skin of my baby-knees, i knelt beside the dirty water

somehow, knowing that the majestic moon too, could drown 

touched my little baby-heart

and warm, wet tears splashed into the craters.

psilocybin

i can't remember at which point i lost my mind

i just remember realizing how little anything matters

how many truths there are to discover 

and how absolutely fucking beautiful life is

i remember crying of joy at the fractal patterns appearing on the walls

crying of joy at how much more depth there is to everything

how much more there is than what meets your eye!

i remember thinking, 'this is what it feels like to be completely insane!'

'this is alice in the depth of her rabbit hole!'

i remember knowing so many things, so many wise, wise things.

and if this is what it feels like to lose your mind,

there are so many other things to gain.

. 

mdma

you can't imagine what it's like to embody an emotion.
to become it completely, then overthrow it, surpass it, climb higher.
you can't fathom every single atom in your body sighing in ecstasy, in relief
before you know it, your eyes are open wide with the fascination of a child
and the sounds your body makes are those of constant pleasure
tasting textures, feeling sounds under your skin.
your hands reach out to squeeze the universe, to hold it tight
and suddenly thoughts don't matter
and you're dancing dancing dancing...

feel

my mind has bloomed like a lotus flower.
it feels good to feel it unfold.
it feels good to be touched and to touch.
it feels good to drink cheap booze and it feels good to kiss a beautiful girl
it feels good to sit in the hazy waves of a bath with a delicate boy.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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. 

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.

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.'

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.