Blue, I.

•February 27, 2017 • 1 Comment

today you feel empty like seashells buried in sand,
but no matter how much i try to listen,
i can’t hear the sound of the ocean.

and no matter how much i gaze into your eyes,
i can’t see the sea that was once a raging symphony
of a contained chaos.

and no matter how many times i kiss you,
i still feel you parting my lips
like a wave retreating from the shore.

and no matter how cold you get, i convince myself
you still have some warmth for me
underneath.

Valentine’s

•February 27, 2017 • 1 Comment

https://www.walldevil.com/wallpapers/a75/moon-night-cloud-sky.jpg

lying under a moon that cast a soft glow on the edges of things,
I wrapped my arms around myself,
wishing they were yours.

sick in zurich

•February 9, 2017 • 1 Comment

between Portishead and Massive Attack’s Angel─

i hum along and my eyes wander through scattered photographs of cabaret voltaire and the dada posters, pausing to stare into your muted hazel and those dark circles i’ve always found so erotic on you. must be from all the nights you stayed up working late when i longed to rub my cheek against yours─inhale your scent and exhale it into your ear with a soft whisper. (how come no one ever smells like you?)

Heat Miser mimicked my breaths as i dreamt of us moving against a light that silhouetted only our fluid frames, holding me like a trembling rose, watering me with your moist lips, our eyelashes tangled until morning mist slipped through a cracked window.

i recall your face, your hair, your touch, i swear i could taste your chest and neck—

and the rest was blurry.

i’m not in love with you, but i crave you.

you got me – an atheist – to pray to god every time to see you one more time, just one last time.

and you got me writing and shit-talking and walking figure eights all over the place. not quite a fucking mess but an alcoholic yearning for a sip. i made less sense to myself with every word i spoke and here i am incoherently rambling into a voice recording machine wondering if you will ever listen to this or if anyone else is listening to me confessing this and pitying me or if i am going to curse at myself for spitting this or if i will ever regret doing this or if i will ever feel like this will slowly destroy my insides or if this will ever make you think i wasn’t worth the stress or if i will ever been seen as a sinner for this─i don’t want you to think of me any less

but i’ll still be waiting for you in zurich

to drown me in white-wine-kisses and burn me down into ashes and bliss.

Cradled in Soil

•February 8, 2017 • Leave a Comment

mother,
i am dying inside

i clench my rolls and the skin pries open,
revealing a pile of straw and tangled feathers.

my head tilts back as i gaze
into a sky of cool grays and
a shiver traces my spine one last time─

it’s too cold and i go blind.

mother,

let me crawl back into your womb
before birds pluck my eyes out and
perch in my scarecrow frame.

Very Late Night Thoughts

•August 12, 2014 • Leave a Comment

racoon-eyed and smeared chanel lipstick–

i wander off on a road where we once drove the car through,
shit-talking laughs lipsync music ranging from Scarlatti to Laibach

and oh how i hated your smoking habit
and how i loved when the cigarette kissed your lips,
words and smoke fusing together into the most beautiful echoed dreams

 

Glimpse of my autumn thoughts

•September 17, 2013 • 2 Comments

I’m not really sure if I’ve posted this somewhere else before, but I like the roughness of it.

waiting for autumn,
i wear the cool-grays and float
to get lost in a bloated cloud
passing by,
waiting until it sheds—

i’m a droplet of her—

i’m a naked body
claiming to be the tree
and the leaf.

I really have no idea how “i” here got immediately from being a droplet to being a tree or/and a leaf. There’s something that should fill the void there, but I guess it’s all under the autumn theme. I dunno.

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To go to—

•September 13, 2013 • 1 Comment

1305822932-nature-winter-snow-wallpaper

a trip to your heart is bleak, pale,
cold trip, but makes me appreciate the warmth of my body.

CopyScape - No for Plagiarism

 
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