i guess this is a letter to young me, and as old me having dominion over young me, and the fortune of being older and equipped with technology and the dream of possibly time traveling by watching too much sci-fi, or something- and possibly giving you this letter.
dear little boy,
this is older you. and if you don’t believe me, read this letter and I’m sorry for telling people you thought you could handle the worlds pain, silly goober. but here it is: (sorry if you don’t understand a word or two, but by now you’re probably reading dictionaries, soooo not so sorry)
here i (we) am (are) again.
i was naive when i was a boy.
i (we) still am (are)! but… not quite as adorably
with good intentions
but i have a story
my family used to tell me about the bad things happening around the world
how people suffer when they die
when they’re hungry
when they’re raided from their homes
how i should be grateful
i had food. and a house.
i was okay. i would run and be happy!
i used to feel so empathetic
energetic. endless energy.
truly a kind soul that wanted good things for everyone
as a boy i thought i was superman
i’d tell myself,
“god, can you let everyone’s pain in the world just affect this one little portion of my body? for ten seconds! i can handle that i promise! don’t listen to my mom! i’m strong! she’s just trying to protect me. i don’t want people to feel pain. isn’t that good?”
of course it never happened.
little did, little me know, that, the wish i made that day
wasn’t a smart one
sometimes i feel it came true, but as an adult.
as if god is too busy taking orders from wishes and prayers, and he finally got to me when i was
god didn’t ask me if i still wanted it, despite being two decades old.
god just gave it to me. expedited delivery.
it just hit me.
or maybe it didn’t.
maybe this is just the pain and suffering my family told me about
maybe it’s normal, maybe
as a child you need to be hugged and loved
so so so so hard that the love has this everlasting effect that sort of negates the pain you eventually feel
i wish there was a way you could measure how strong you are
nobody gives a shit, though.
how mentally strong you are.
you can measure your physical strength.
but what about your mental strength?
i want to get stronger, still
every time i conquer the unconquerable
i feel a sense of happiness. relief. strength
but i can’t help but wonder… if the same person a year ago would crumble under that pressure?
what if the person i am now can’t handle something in two years or two months from now?
i know it’s dumb to think of the future like that
but i just want to be prepared
i want to be able to continue to feel
how a little boy version of me did, at one time
sometimes, glimmers of that boy shine through
the man i am today
but it’s short lived
how do i sustain such confidence?
how and what can i learn from a boy?
a lot actually
that boy is this man.
that boy dreamed of a man like me
to help him be the man like me
but he didn’t want the mind numbing obstacles
he wanted to not cry through it all
that boy used to count the days he didn’t cry
one month i haven’t cried
65 days, wow.
day 276 i haven’t cried
almost a year
i never made it a year.
but as i got older, my cry calendar fell beneath
my credit card mail, my tax returns
and love letters by many women
and well, i marked x’s on a lot of days
as i got older
so i threw it out
i wish i could tell that boy, that his cry calendar
was something he didn’t need
and what he did need was someone to cry on
a shoulder, so to say
I’m sorry for the shoulders i inadvertently cried on
the ones that approached me because they saw a sweet boy
and not someone who used you as a pillow to cry on
i didn’t mean to, i just couldn’t hold it in
i do apologize
but I’m starting to cry less now
think less now
i don’t ask god anymore for my old wish
rather i ask for strength
to help myself, first. so i can help others
there’s a reason airlines want you to put your oxygen mask on first
cause if everybody was helping each other it’d be a fucking mess
or if one little boy tried to help everyone at once
then everyone would asphyxiate
help yourself first
then you can have your wish
strong, little boy. kudos for never wincing or grimacing at anything, from your first shots, to playing bloody knuckles to breaking bones, hands, and the grueling, over the top body routine, you did in your teenage years.
you are strong. no doubt about it.
but love yourself first, little man. I’m sure 37 year old me will tell me this, too. even if I’m too believe by everyone that, i do indeed know it all. (that was sort of a joke)
if you can love a little more. fucking do it.
i cant wait
love, 27 year old leonardo.
i love you
(ps hug your family and friends more often. don’t half ass it)
recognize this abandonment pattern. neglect and avoid
pushed to the side, suffocate & deprive
overwrought. rush to get over the noise
stiff arm tactical markup. 1 and death on the goal
practically harmless. red zone ballad demarcation
change is in constance, conscientious tailored departure
mademoiselle, i’ve heard you tell me this often
understandable. hatchet & nail in the coffin
they could hear us screaming when we’re barely talking
ripple effect. tsunami wave/ dimples and neck
telling me to hush because someone just called
delicate. soft. let this be a lesson resolved
inconclusive as it is abusive and sordid
usual motive. behaviorist sadist assortment
white dress. biting my lip til the flavor is gone
entanglement. arthritic, you say. wait till you call
some call it analytics some call it to wait, for the fall
wallowing towards the barking up the
karmic relationship. darkness derailing
flagging down the shipwreck. lighthouse is hazy
maybe- I’m faithful. shit. i ain’t as smart as you make me
maybe my prides hopeful. handing out dead or alive posters
street peasant, preaching dreams, nobody dropping a nickel
pinning phone book back-pages, milk carton picture depressant
mighty magnificent. silence, i solemnly covet
my spaceship running on smog
started to build bridges, only to drop it and run
the troll under it was just a consequence of it
follow me, darling. don’t follow me. fuck it.
state of affairs, shoulder kiss, blissful disdain
i made sure i heard you cry
wasn’t sure you could rain
wish i could rewind my lips. then make amendments
it is what it is. it is what it isn’t
regurgitating versions of self we hardly know
wrap ourselves in layers of hardship and clones
despondency boasts. free jazz concert take my attention
for an hour before i soar off into retention
of body and soul.
who do you talk to when the person you talk to is gone
2 month rental.
the insurance is paying for it
run it to the ground
who cares? it’s a prius
it doesn’t belong to us
and the gas is free
i’ve always wanted one of these
just to see what the buzz is about
someone said it’s been used before
can i just pretend it’s new?
put your foot on the gas and you’re out
i don’t have to pay a dime
i wonder if they’ll even care if i crash it
let’s not drop it off.
they can come and get it
insurance is paying for it
after all, it is a prius
it’s bittersweet. grapefruit sauvignon. rose stained cherry motif
nightmare on wax on repeat. please beware of the beast
swiping left. recurring sentiment, pattern repeat
didn’t fall in love with your pictures. fell in love indiscreetly
deciphering flaws, explicating subtle jungian traits
brains defensive mechanism. delegating safety restraints
decoding reflexive emotive. premeditative distaste
automatic, chemical composition innate
features built to delay or forego any possible symptom
of a broken heart, hemoglobin battle wound syndrome
saline suture. calculating how different you are
4am trip to neverland, not a trip to the bar?
borderline blasphemy. there’s times you cry over art
shit you gotta do alone, shit others could never remark
distinguish aquatic serene, underwater nautical scene
scraping off necrotic flesh your hands singed off my being
i wasn’t weird, i was rare. pseudo nominal dream
all circles around compatibility, malleable personage boost
8oz serving with juice. lime chaser and incertitude
enucleated review, i wonder if those winks were signaling doom
i don’t know everything, some swear that i do
to my prophetic odes of text i promptly construed
maybe it’s curse. mineralize moments of malice
materializing minute by minute, hours go vanished
learning to apologize to my fists when dripping in red
how dare me use them for writing and use them for sin
learning to love myself even though i hate when i fall
staring at bloody gauze when i get up from it all
found safe haven disguised in the words that he spews
who knew all you had to do was wipe his tears from his view
who knew all you had to do
was wipe tears from his view
who knew it had to be you
who knew i stop writing when it hurts
who knew you had to wipe tears
who knew tears didn’t hurt when you touched them
who knew i had to stop writing
you passionately spoke, breathing in between ; about how we’d be able to practically look at each other without speaking and know what we mean. hold my hands. slight facial gesture, radiant beam. on the cusp of extraordinary meaning, emboldened by components we both constructed with our definition of love. uphold the only person i wouldn’t give up. ultralight fixture hooked by the seams. lean over and tell me to be sweet to you. a declaration without question i consented too. something from dreams. dreams realized by coincidence. you see, i don’t believe in happenstance, or the desultory theory. i don’t believe in randomness, or fortuitous grandeur. i don’t believe we told each other we loved each other in our most comfortable ways, because it was random and we had to say it because we were put on the spot. hand me the… anthem to your beating heart, look how easeful we let ourselves be. enjoy the moment don’t let anything interject this tell tale juncture. i felt scared, but i fell asleep through it all. no other feet on the floor, making the wood creek. just you and i. no makeup, no making up things to hinder or shade the initial way we very diligently feel. under the shade, drunk, untouchable, dazed, you told me you did, and i remember your body. audacious. bronze, bold, and barely sorry. you stretched it out and let me kiss your neck till we stopped breathing. i’m not seeing, the dots. sequences mocked in my head, surrealist. please, pass the 1800 i left at your place. take a swig, take a swim in it til’ we recreate what we wanted to make. now what the fuck did we want to make? alcoholic infinity pool. ideas wrapped in embalming fluid, conservation effort at its best. medical kits ravaged through and through. petri dish left alone. the moss grows out of control. and before you know it the whole building is moss. they then turn it into a museum that shows the effects of nature without interference from humans. nefarious, ruthless. communication efforts, high rise wink, and a glare. 65 foot story edifice built with the air that we breathed in. we took it too far. maybe we didn’t take it far enough in the day. maybe, i accosted you. maybe i don’t know what to say. maybe i don’t when to put off, or lay off, and just proclaim we’ve gone too far, let’s delay the inevitable army coming to raze the buildings we built, the princesses we locked away in towers, in case someone dared to unravel the chains. battle the dragons that lay in scales of brave souls that couldn’t contain. in the nest atop of the moat, intense guarding by alligators that haven’t eaten in weeks, that stare with listless bloodshot eyes, that peek over the callous, dry mud you feel safe from ever slipping on. i didn’t realize it’d be from the other side of the bar. where we don’t speak to each other and know what we meant. that’s not what i planned. not what i wanted to express, okay? have you ever experienced the glow of rising sun with someone so advanced in your fortress you let them break down the doors to your chamber? i was in six feet of water trying to breathe. guide me, I’m weak. i’m not gonna lie, that night fucking broke me. i solemnly pray, calmly, or i solemnly pray somehow you could calm me. ironic. ionic. electrical charge. cation and anion, embellishing hardship. arrhenius asserted that large compounds irreversibly form into smaller charged particles even without electrical current. this is called dissociation. it sounds like disassociation. i bet you, you weren’t expecting that. wrote print my entire life and fell in love with your cursive. i still remember philip olivier. and i chuckle. can you picture philip olivier? hope my knees don’t buckle and shake, tucked into shapeless projections, and then crumble and break. i have a thousand thoughts in my head and don’t know what else to say. someone just left the coffee shop I’m in. i wish them the best.
the world can’t be given to you by someone else
but they can make it a bit brighter
what they tell you is don’t be selfish
what they don’t tell you is be selfish with love
in your twenties.
telling you right now, be selfish
i remember what your mom said
she wished she never left her first love, it’s a regret that she had
i don’t know if you know. don’t ask
i didn’t want this to happen. didn’t want to get launched into saturn. unmanned vessel. haunted mansion. it’s so hard to imagine myself even a month ago. don’t even remember how to breathe without thinking of you. i breathed differently before. connect the dots in the sky. constellation prize. consolation, sky. but now I’m an astronaut (not by choice) i have all the equipment. but i breathe different. houston asks if I’m okay. i tell them, i don’t remember my training.
“but you’re alone up there. and radio signals are giving out soon”
why does every moment replay in my head, but more vividly than when it actually happened. why does my brain think it’s funny to repaint reds better than when i saw them? your lipstick, like a pastel, oil canvass. whites are whiter than ever. they’re almost blinding. dress like a fucking north star. twinkling with this coalescing ember. i press the buttons on the machine and i keep getting error messages. oxygen. check. gasoline check. heartbeat? morse code.
can’t make out what it says. it’s too complicated. dit dit dot, dit. ITS TOO COMPLICATED.
i woke up out of this coma, and nothing makes sense anymore. I’m just taunted by how beautiful my brain recreates entire galaxies. how brown jewels locked into mine and 4 coffee spheres would load up ungodly combustion within inches from each other. like magnetic, electric fire. are we describing planets, or eyeballs? outside? the world silent. space, an unfathomable, token of random poetic nature. but, 4 unbroken galaxies reading each other. 2 and 2. have you ever seen brown eyeballs under the sun? you should. they were embarking, and creating remarkable universes. and now I’m lost in one.
fulfillment is neat. it fills you up, inside, and out. your skin glows, you say hi more often, and sometimes the sun shines brighter than average. not, sometimes, but more so all the time. even on rainy days, you can see the sun. its hidden, but you know it’s there, and you smile and the sun reflects light off of those pearly whites. you ever have a sudden jolt of energy, not like coffee, or stimulant, but just because you’re happy? that’s it. at times, I’ll make the most out of my happiness because I know it’s short-lived. so i’ll drive around, ride a bike, do push ups, tell people they’re beautiful, and make sure they know i love them. when it goes away, then well; they’ll have to wait till’ next time. when you’re fulfilled, this isn’t even an afterthought. it’s just there and you use it and you don’t have deadlines or restrictions for happiness or smiles or kisses or dreams, hugs, wishes, desires, considerations, love, or companionship. you don’t have an hourglass telling you your times up, staring at you like the abyss. waiting till you slowly regenerate parts of yourself. now, I’m not wholly telling you the requirement or prerequisites for fulfillment and the goodies that are thrown in its path, nor am i acknowledging that it comes with everything listed. but, what I can say is that put your foot in the door; dont let it close. dear god, don’t let it close. that’s why my nails are short. outside there’s light you can look too, there’s a reason; whatever that reason is, is up to you. i used to think my happiness would stem from helping others, without helping myself first. i was brought up on a self sacrificial code of conduct, and to use my body and mind to bring fulfillment to others, as a vessel, partaking in nothing to rejuvenate it’s slowly decaying prized possessions. depreciating in value, with very little to offer after it has served its purpose; recycling bin overflowing with afterthoughts, asbestos and what couldve beens. wrinkles forming in the creases of my forehead, and ridges generating throughout this soulless visage. beautiful calloused hand carved depreciating asset, slowly falling apart, marble chipping off, corrosion taking its time to break down what the sun has slowly created over years. what light provided, in the beginning. in this statue you see a boys eyes tearing up, you look away and back to the statue again to see if what you saw was real. can a statue cry, move, feel? “i’m but a dying star” engraved in the rock. memories of a fallen hero fading through people’s memories. flickering between oblivion like broken conduit in a old warehouse. but we all disappear eventually, right? who am i to be so arrogant to believe i have a purpose? i used to think. apathy engulfing, and rage entrenching. miscommunication, and over analytical thoughts, negative emotions like envy, doubt, shame, fear, grief, guilt, frustration take their place on their pedestal and reign over barren wastelands, where verdurous pastures becomes obsolete. you need to kiss yourself, my dear. tell yourself you’re more than a brain in an armored mech. you need to stop allowing the furrows near your cheek to keep forming, for streams of tears from depression carve their way in them. you mustn’t let this happen. turn on your supercomputer and let it work to your advantage- falling into a pit of monotony isn’t what you want. it is your worst nightmare. and even though you slice through kudzu vines that grow around faster than you could chop away at them, you love the challenge. you pride yourself in temporary conquests of behemoths that soon use the seeds of brooding hell to spring back up stronger than before. using your i5 your i7, your i8, your i10, your i15, until your supercomputer can’t process anymore. it can’t keep up. please allow yourself to speak up for yourself without having to look at the floor in distress. counting molecules with x-ray vision, trying to ward away the anxiety. stop using your fist as a hammer to crawl out of shawshank. allow yourself to be vulnerable for two seconds before your masterpiece marble statue becomes a toppled piece of history no longer accepted in today’s society. allow yourself to bloom like the flowers you plant, and the plants you water- the ones you sing too, and patiently clean dust off of. dont allow yourself to hush yourself from crying so that no one hears you. i’m so sorry this happens to you. don’t look for the impossible because you want to feel human. please help yourself exist, you beautiful person. be star-studded. shine, glimmer between the edges. breath in death and exhale pollen. watch landscapes grow before you. i want you to do this, look at yourself in the mirror, and take a deep breath, learn how your body moves when you take that breath, tell yourself your flesh and bone, and not metal and programming. tell yourself it’ll be okay. it’ll ALWAYS be ok. even when it isn’t. you’re okay. i love you. its okay. don’t worry. it’s okay x20. keep saying it. touch yourself in what you think are your least beautiful parts. just dont give up. just do it. everybody knows you can. there is a man behind the machine, behind every mech that has been adopted by the belief of self-deprecation and abasement. let luminosity be a guiding force. sing twinkle twinkle little star, hum it. look up, and..thanks
i don’t get it. they tell me to write happy things.
the thing is you don’t feel the need to discuss your happiness on paper when you’re happy. you just embrace the moment and live it. i don’t want to talk about that.
momentary silence. dusk lit bedroom apartment
buzzing of cars from traffic afar, it’s when i
stare into myself. melancholy loves company
and misery loves to fuck with me, it’s pitiful
she sticks her head in while I’m telling a story
the room keeps spinning. I’m terribly sorry
today i apologize. i can’t be myself
try again tomorrow, bring me some help
and the day after that. don’t fade into black
amy said it best, when she said she’s treading a troubled track
been in love with a gunslinger. run my back
with your fingernails, tell me you’ll stay
leave scars, dig deep. i’ll tell you it’s okay
with whispered breath, inhale, exasperated lust
even if it hurts me, stab my grazing touch
it hurt writing those last four lines. they weren’t even much
that’s the thing with being a writer, your emotion is raw
like pouring a potion labeled love into a saucepan and stirring
caustic deterrence. awestruck with how, my wrong spats of burning
passion turn to rorschach’s, where i can’t discern it
call back. let me hold your arms back. let’s learn this
way to explore our bodies. near my chest there’s an armed guard
trained in combat, don’t go near there. fade into all black
fall asleep in my wine house. dizzily pour up your last drink
make sure the glass clinks. i’ve been told that noise is better than the absinthe
better than your absence
better than the last..
you’re better when we laugh. think
to the last time you’ve told yourself to stop
why did you go again?
sometimes silence is nice. most times i despise the need for questions
my secretary’s favorite line is “would you like to leave a message?”
it’s beginning to show
it’s intertwining dividends between time invested with growth.
my intention provoked. lying listless and broke
revisiting moments that to me, seem explicitly warped
yosemite vulture. my melatonins dried up some
sore throat, sore back, amphetamine humdrum
ever growing size of my blood pump escaping out of my thorax
500-pound dry-flesh, green alien invasion
the least entertaining eyesore of something alive
need something to die for, an end to the means
imagine going to sleep, with binary code in your dreams
wake up to see, beating hearts in the sheets
cupid dart in my daith, superstar on the stage
taking a nosedive in oblivion, fiending fans in their seats
15:56 in corinthians. hold me, and scream
a cobra in the grass, with a boomslang caught in its teeth
two fangs, bon’apetite
still are what you eat
darkest before, dawn at its peak
marking off doomsday in a week
neitzche authored pretty much what I’m telling you now
neitzche’s name is the same if you take out all the vowels
neitzche authored the sequences that I yell at you now. everyday considered lost if were not dancing around. acceptance a must. i want to forget you, forget that it happened, to protect my destruction. when each minute is elapsed
it’s said if you’re depressed you’re living in the past.
if you’re living in the future, then its anxiety. trying to delete this undo button on the time machine. i want to speak to the one. whether it be with these feet or our tongues. I’m used to this dance. exchanging euphemisms or moving in trance. don’t lose me, watching each opportunity snatched.
i don’t know how to express myself without giving away, exact detail- still obscuring the day. i don’t feel well, i tell myself i’m sure it’s okay. the sunset, the rain, gun smoke, & malaise, the perspiring& tired breaths, our entire tryst – the fire sex. i couldn’t talk fluently, -you were my only dialect
getting wound up in simile and allegorical speak, creating a world where the orbit isn’t even normal to me. categorical means. euphoric disease. it’s tough being an alien. futuristic portal and beam. love seeing it rain. UFO license plate reading “catch me if you can”. i love seeing you change, don’t want to see you the same. love being in rain. i hate leaving a trail of my footsteps exposed. i love sleet, hail and the snow. the same nuisance, just at different times of the year. a love/hate relationship with being insane. kinda like.. we are. or we were.
i love to be in control. gunship turret patrol. i hate underlying factors. unresolved moments in gold. underlining tantrums. i loathe when suns provides bastions of sunshine for eternity. motherfucker, i hate all these motherfucking uncertainties. being doused in someones punchline is wildly disconcerting. dislike being lost, who wants to fist fight in the dark. with house rules: it ignites, when this right lands on your jaw. implant a GPS in my dome, let it beep if I’m gone. coordinate my geotagged location once more. hum me a lullaby baby, while i sing along. lea salonga’s “let me show you the world“. carpet stained with coffee grains, and unrealistic expectations and heartless pangs. sand tower fantasy’s, where romanticism hardly fades, and carnal rage is whole.
and … erotic diction overturns symphonic fiction thats promised. i feel as if, everything ive ever thought is invalid or ancient. I can’t quite put my finger on it- and that has me complacent.
I’m back again. I identified the problem, simplified the content. Happiness can’t be figured out. That’s the point in process. you’re either a massless void in rhythm, or a single cellular, organism. that was an awful way to put what I’ve been trying to mean. and honestly, I’m torn to smithereens
most of the time i didn’t say what i wanted to scream.
i’ve got a troll that lives under my bridge, who uses me as his ventriloquist. guttural roars slowly coming out of my throat. and that pot of gold isn’t enough to start bringing him home. I’ll take my pulse, and i’m barely breathing, i’ll let you in on a secret- I’m exponentially worse than i was 5 minutes into this story. but yeah worse is better than the nothing i stared into this morning.
spinning the howitzer, just to get me out of the house. sometimes i’ll take a shower, and put it on freezing. sit there until i figure it out. goosebumps surround sound system, hallways in black. broadway show finishing now. curtain close. audience gasp, lights on me gently taking a bow.
the perks of being a wallflower, or disadvantage in case. mr observant, half perfectionist, getting a taste of his own medicinal value, describe me to myself in a vacuum. tell me how many times i scratch my chin, touch my ribcage, leave you feeling incomplete.
when you feel me getting nervous around you, so i can cross my arms defensively. straighten up my posture and..
and tell you you’re wrong. or break down and cry.
an impressionist, copies people to the point where its comedic. I wouldn’t say I’m an impressionist.
it’s not funny
deflecting points of interest because im upset with how my intelligence handles situations. and ive rattled enough cages to know, the focus of peoples pain comes from the same place that mine does.
conflict of interest. consciously thinking how to forget
i heard you like puzzles. when my eyes water my vision breaks apart like a kaleidoscope.
do or die. get close to me. don’t whisper, or the tripmines will hear you.
kaleidoscope. i’m so fascinated with it. the way it, breaks apart your vision, and makes you see different things. sort of the way
i’m a witness to my memoir. self-aware, debonair deathstar. get away. n bomb. i feel your pain. embark on this journey to my self-sustained benchmark.
gaze at you from a vantage point, you barely knew i had an angle to do so
saxophone tenor, ballad with loopholes, italian caruso.
some call it voyeuristic, i call it opportunity presenting itself
shy guy chronicle meets the walking contradiction for help
don’t decimate my only distinction. i barely hold myself together
captain to starboard, i want more than affection.
sometimes the grip of your neck gives me..cant describe it
They’re hardly going to miss you, don’t look back to Gomorrah
there’s a karmic relationship between, I and the plethora
ironic leaf petal spinning like a helicopter, whistling whirlwind, warping through the breeze. falls onto my skin, wafting through the fabric. blasting through my membranes. i need to stop over thinking every situation, sometimes a leaf falling is just a leaf falling. romanticizing everything that crosses my path. i think it’s because i want to believe that my life is something more than the background bystander in someones dream. i think its because i want to feel more than what i feel at any given moment. i think its because when i cry, i feel like my tears carry entire poems in them, and when they fall off my cheek that splash entire novels on innocent civilians. my brain reminds me of a dreidel that gets spun and keeps going. forever. that song stuck in your head, bleeding through a padded room.
its redundancy is suffocating. sometimes, ill fall asleep for what seems years and i barely recognize myself in the mirror. sometimes, i get jealous of animals that can cocoon themselves for what seems like a lifetime, i know it seems morbid, but i can’t help to think that maybe cryogeny is waiting for me somewhere. maybe im a butterfly yet to spread its wings. he hasn’t fully reached who he wants to be
i use the word kaleidoscope a lot.
getting lost in the labyrinth. i feel as if, i can find the ending to the pattern. that somewhere between the rose-colored glasses, there’s a door with an infinite keycode that i know the password too, and when i open it…
im not lost
theres somebody waiting
to whom it may concern
it’s almost complete. distance between falling apart
from whispering secrets, sequence you act non chalant
like, a purist in person. told you to stop kissing my heart
questioned why, choking back tears. au revoir
so insincere. brassiere draped over post traumatical scar
and it’s worthless. holding hands under jupiter mars
deafening stare. kaleidoscopic. where we grew afar
or begun growing. to knowing it was doomed to begin with
congruent in interests. confusing indifference
with sultry disclosure. whispering secrets. a bottle of stol’
acting as if you didn’t already know
marlboro rogue. leads in my chest. heart in my throat
it’s okay because, a month is barely a whisper
speaking sweet nothings with nobody to listen
I’m sorry I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
evolving into something without your permission
where’s the accomplice? bonnie with a gun to their clyde
are we only partners in crime when the love has subsided?
you threw me a bone. how oddly shakespearean
homeopathic dosage delirious
slowly becoming romeo through the experience
juliet, my rose, you told me not to pick flowers for you
to let them grow and die without interference from you
i slowly understood what you meant what you said
when you blinked once and said nothing in bed
trojan horse valentines gift. hold it close to your breast
let me invade you. while we both hope for the best
how to enjoy a private dinner, without making a noise
paris to my helen- keep kidnapping my voice
cross an ocean, fight the army waiting at troy
calloused rejoice. carry the spoils from my battle deployment
wearing a cast on the places you touched out of choice
colliding connection, copasetic, catharsis, caress.
coalescing conversations under our breaths
touching soil under toes. label it normal behavior
letting out guttural moans, sultry, fluttering. flavor
it’s okay. i get it. it’s just sand in the wind
to drinking from chalices any chance that we get
to get lost in inebriation, just to forget
how we treat each other when we kiss with our …..
my mother once said, my child you love without any condition
a gift i admire in you. it worried her sick
to be at arms with a lovelust, gun to your neck
shot glass throwback. wipe off the taste from my lip
barely consent to this insatiable tryst
listening to playlists, and the rain hit our heads
save me a seat. musical chair gallantry version
you were the last one standing when i asked myself who is your perfect
and who can touch you in ways you haven’t learned
also who is the single most dangerous person
and who gives you this doable courage
and to that, who is the only one that can hurt it