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