lumiere

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
waiting

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
inwards
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
terror
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
escape
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

shorthand

we tipped our glasses of
red hope and clarity
chugging down what was once
sweet
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.

luminous

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

.nicotine

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

afraid

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.

cigarette hearts

i've got life between my fingers
and breath clogged with
chained frustration
thoughts staining every scar darker on my skin

the only thing between me and the world
are two cigarettes and an ashtray
self lit in the dark, sparks
crashing into ground.

i set myself free with twenty
a day, sometimes overdosing on
rushestomyhead to stop
myself feeling sane because
sane is another meaning of pain

- and i am through with that.

the day i ignited life
between my lips
and embraced death with past inflictions.

catharsis

thoughts that linger on pillowcases

clogged and tried

of days when things were blurred

significance

the nights that never gave me chance

to breath

it is relief that washes over me

when i no longer find

descriptions that fit

and your name tastes

foreign

to my tongue a language

forgotten

your memories unrehearsed

the playbacks in my mind are stagnant

but no longer haunting

and for the first in a while

i learn to embrace reality

because it pulls away all the

pain

i endured for you

replacing instead

a new mind;

less dangerous less

fragile

less choked.

seizure

glitter dreams

starlight on my skin

as i lay fluorescent

wide eyed

breathing underwater and

learning how to count on

stagnant stars

because you're only lucky enough

to ever see seven shooting stars

once in your life

that night

i was ethereal

with seven wishes to hope upon

yet stand today

knowing none came true

days when

i wake up to heavy sounds

like i am floating

because something inside me

is being sucked out

sucked in?

miniature objects

that stun me

like a secret smile

like a secret

yelling in my ear

teaching me to stay silent

even though my heart

is screaming for air

screaming for air

like stale suffocation

nineteen days

cracked lips.

a faint flicker of shine

leaking through the webs of my mind.

littlethoughts.littledreams.little

blatant and tempting

like frivolous passion under clouded

stars and puntured moons

where there is no space for me

to breath.

curved in.

warm and safe

a body, an artwork

eyes of daylight and

lips of a religion i conjured from my

heart.

they are strange words

but familiar to a dream long forgotten

a beautiful dejavu.

cracked in.

curved lips.

whisper.