we look up to the same skies
and the distance fades with every
lightning bolt
crashing into empty spaces of our thoughts
as we slither into each other's dreams
praying for a miracle
we can't find in our own
because we have run out of hope

there is a thin line that separates
a touch of the hand
and fluctuating heartbeats that hold
a million messages that we
every so often might stumble upon
and decipher
past the border with a taste
of a sweet sort
on the tip of our tongues

we look up to the same
shade of sunset
listening to our hearts rise
as we fall in love again
with the broken little pieces
we hold in our hands
of a world so easy to get lost in
yet so easy to find our way back
to the place above
a line that taught us to reach out
when we run out of hope
and there is somebody there

heavings of a screaming heart

three lines down the page expressing
certain miniscule actions
that replace colossal pieces of my life
and scare me to think of choices

i blink away the blurred visions of dandelions
flying askew, crashing hard onto the surface of my cheek
burning me with a thousand unanswered thoughts
because chances are,
i never notice the way i move
in my sleep compared to a time
when i lay still and curved
eyes blank wide distant.

and the burden of different lives i could've lived
stand tiptoed on my shoulder blades
piercing through my physicality and
pulling down my mind

an orchestral mass of confusion and
creating the notes to a suicide song

vanishing act

there are cracks we look through
for a better view
the window too easy, too clear
a way,
we search time and time
for simplicity but
always prefer the complications.

there are cracks we place our lips on
to intake a whiff of the
fresh air beyond
because things on our side
always seem too choked
too full of
our own creations
and we try to
always running
and never stopping
as if there is nowhere
in the million spaces
for us to hide

there are cracks inside us
some bigger than others
from where we never seem to heal
to heal from pain
like a drug
it feeds on our life
like a drug
and we accept it

there are cracks we look through
and smell the fresh air
from time to time
we break ourselves into a million
just to find a crack big enough to
swallow us hole and
watch us disappear


we tipped our glasses of
red hope and clarity
chugging down what was once
turned sour
like life on speed; on
drugs that paint mirages in our minds
and feign a reality

i write short poems nowadays
because some things are too precious
to elaborate on.


My lips have held a million unspoken words
and a taste of pain
slithering through my throat
teaching me how to control my breathing.

I have suffered a sunrise that burnt through my eyelids
and surged to my heart like a
runaway train with nowhere to crash,
a gaping hole

i denied the way my hands felt like
dry leaves
how the veins on my neck ached from screaming
and attempting to swallow light
to make myself believe i can be
fluorescent like swimming
pools and happiness
when all this while
i was nothing but

a forgotten street lamp
on the brink of life,
too bright to look at
but burnt black inside.

my sky

it takes a while for life to settle back
into ripples of calm and visions
of beauty
after the shatters of a personal hurricane

my shatters of personal hurricanes.

there was a person who inspired my pain
who taught me to love
and taught me to die
and the inspirations were hell to obtain
the point where my expressions
turned dark blue
lurid and choked.

i stand now
with two fingers on my lips
my mind at wander
searching for the miniscules of reason i can
latch on to and have myself feel like
i can once more open my heart to hope
and light, and unfold the pages of my thoughts
to stop myself from crumpling.

but i am still afraid of stars
and the meaning they once held
that i will fall again for their
blinding light and find myself
under lightning.

the scariest part is when i begin to smile at thunder
screeching in my ear
because it is therapeutic
to my own demise.