Tag: prose

fire breather

fire breather

Cristian Leonardo

I’m a fucking fire breather.
Breathing fire. Eating dragons, for breakfast
who wants some? None of you do
I’ve held back for quite some time
exerting no strength
Ball of fire. Giving the sun spots
ink blots and think thoughts
disregard your discourse
munching on mantras, making mistakes

barely

i learn from them
wake up from nightmares hardly impressed
more creative next time, brain
laughable sequence, you could never understand
i ain’t lazy
just smart
you work hard i work smarter
catch a sneeze in the air
yelling from the sidelines
telling mayweather his footwork is scarce
looking at my mile times like godamn how old is too old to compete in the olympics?
facebook shows me gold medal ads the next day
your ads probably have bronze medal ads.
investing in bronze exports. making a killing
thanks for losing to me. still winning
dumb down my vocabulary to be able to talk
seto masochistic flair pops up when lactic acid settles in
i will say though, my only weakness is knowing when to try

do
i do it or not

do i love you or not? it’s the only time
where I’m clueless. i love it.
I’m scared of these dungeons i’ve never visited before
i barely gave you a chance
only because I’m terrified of defeat
but i’m oddly attracted to how you make me listen to you
not by force
by this weird thing called
love, perhaps
it’s the only thing i can’t decipher
so i try to break it down

molecule by atom
acid and protein
muscles and madness
deconstructing everything into dust
but i didn’t need too
never did
I’m only figuring that now
masqueraded dominance with self love
self deprecating jokes were my crux
like, you came out of nowhere

right there

but nowhere
RIGHT THERE. but nowhere
solving puzzles in seconds
nice one on the wall.
visit art galleries just to figure them out
i know where you thought your last thought, picasso
no escaping my big brain
but you, oh you
i can’t figure anything out. and it’s

RIGHT THERE.

where? right there
she’s right here, cristian
where? there.
my heart?
maybe. but right there. whisper
right there
tinier text. right

there

i remember once i was in mexico
strutting the city streets. and my game was
to memorize everybody’s face for 5 minutes.
needless to say i did that, and i saw them later
walking.
they didn’t know who i was
it was the hardest i ever pushed my brain
i slept for half a day. then went hiking
it wasn’t a pointless story.
those faces
we’re right there. the whole time
as were you.
not you physically. but. you.
you know?

right there

mad scientist

mad scientist

Cristian Leonardo

you mix gunpowder and moments, of silence
and gather components you’d author with smiles
combustible crossover.
gifting a locket, heart shaped alloy, wish upon a asteroid comet
it’ll turn to debris before it reaches to me
countdown from three, wishing a frown obsolete
douse gasoline, that set blaze to decree
miscellaneous mundane, missiletoe mainframe
hypnotize what lingers in me, complex emotions
compartmentalizing alone
left alone in your apartment
high-rise affectionate tease
was used to darkness from sun rise- till sun shivers
and then i’d only see it when you’d
stand in front of me, shut eyes with your fingers
pressed mute with your kisses, tell the moon to revisit
at a later date
neck, shoulder, premeditation
escape  
from your inner desire, and overture taste
melanin eye, brown sepia. tell me my lies.
skeleton sky. clouds breaking off into these lines
where sound waves-get soft, & decibles dice
where consensual lust, rears it’s head in and tithes
gives a percentage of care, pretend to be bare
you only said what you said to dissect what was rare
those are your words. foreword. fast forward, ball of mass in a chokehold, ozone layer of old words layered, strapped over my torso, I’m so… so angered. hormones anchored to you, apropos the flavor. addicted to it. postpone my conflicted prayers. I’m such a sicko. i hate it. like a mad scientist wanting to create frankenstein but can’t,  I’m mal aligned. attack of the titans, a clash of indecisive i cants. i can’t, not decipher the feelings, let me rot and writhe. holding a wallet picture of us in my pocket insides. wanting to gift it. arduous. physics. trying to stop what I’m thinking.

but can’t

hellhound pt2

hellhound pt2

Cristian Leonardo

heartbreaking
shattering
crushing
blasphemous, bludgeoning, over saturated
don’t be surprised if we can’t be separated
science needs a new invention

to mend hearts
or a swab test for tears
where a story is written by the chemicals in them
and the chemicals in them
are only ones that i can create
with my signature on them
my blood, and my distinction
nobody else
well, that is interesting.
cristian

doesn’t want it to end like this
the story is written by an author who has no
business writing it
don’t be surprised if one night
we’re looking at each other
eye to eye
holding each other, close
so close
so close, i can feel you brush
your passionate breaths
against my lungs
that fill with air, and move your head

i feel you slipping away.
and by now, the category 5 hurricane
by all and any expert
is said to have definitely slowed down
the eye has shrunken
our eyes have. shrunk
it isn’t a category 5 anymore
and it won’t ever be a category 5
and sometimes, looking at the weather
i believe it will slow down
i don’t want it too
the chaos of it all is intriguing
inviting. warming
sometimes, though
other times, i don’t believe it at all
other days it’s category 6, maybe 7
8, or 9. category 20.
and i feel this storm going up
in numbers,
up and up. it’s the size of the
entire planet now
I’m the only weather reporter
that believes this
i have hope in my math
don’t believe in machines
i want to categorize 20 different
parts of you
that i fell in love with
category 1,2 3
4
5
i love you
your love is a hurricane, it comes and goes
in september it came and went
it went
6, your honesty is like
a powerful gust of wind
that rips trees from its roots
that blows stop signs from their post
rips roofs off house tops
14 i love how much we loved each other
it’s like, i thought it was real
maybe it was
maybe it isn’t
i have so much to give you
wanted to give, at least
still, do. i don’t know
21 please don’t do this
i don’t want to feel like an acting lesson
don’t
if i could
id bring a version of you back from a time machine
so i could talk to them about the future-you
maybe i could
understand better
feel better
i regret
anything i did that brought me here
did i
say to little
say too much
love too hard
love too soft
was it me crying
was it my silence at 5am
i didn’t mean to
I’m
I’m
going. well, i was
i was going through some things
these things now are different things though
hurricane artois
they say don’t chase what you can’t catch
I caught feelings
you caught my heart
don’t be surprised
if you can’t find something like this
nobody can do what i do, like me
not even close
you can’t extinguish flames with a whisper
don’t be surprised
don’t be surprised when i don’t stop

If you jump, I jump
over frontiers written in bold text saying “invade me”
with invisible feeling
into this bewitching allure of where my heart is kept in your cage
back stroking through the perfect sound waves where each word spoken fits in my ear, words where you made me imagine us together with wrinkles
I was so fucking drunk when we were together
my submarine descends into our own fucking galaxy

(I’m STILL HERE!!!!!!)

of silk and honey being hand woven by broken hands (20th time) into this fucking perfect perfection we perfected
I was so hypnotized
was that an eclipse or did the moon kiss the sun and did the sun close her eyes while he did?
I was captured by your solar flare
tunnel vision, tunnel feeling the moon and sun
deathly slow, slow dance to the spanish passacaglia raising goosebumps on your arms
We jumped to the moon
the moon jumped to the sun
the sun burned

hellhound

naivety

naivety

Cristian Leonardo

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
20 something.
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
day 290
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
got discouraged
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)

prius

prius

Cristian Leonardo

i

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
remember?
after all, it is a prius

you knew

you knew

Cristian Leonardo

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
right
here

disassociation

disassociation

Cristian Leonardo

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

how i

do

houston

houston

Cristian Leonardo

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.

thank you

last time you said stop

last time you said stop

Cristian Leonardo

sigh

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?”

figure me out.

figure me out.

Cristian Leonardo

it’s beginning to show

the way intertwining dividends between time invested, and growth. sore throat, sore back, sore humdrum. the ever growing size of my blood pump squeezing out of the thorax. 500 pound live, flesh chief alien invasion. the least entertaining showcase of something alive. imagine going to sleep, with binary code in your dream. you wake up and see, a beating heart in the sheets. take a nosedive into oblivion. hold me. i sigh.

neitzche authored the sequences that I’m telling you now. everyday is considered lost if were not dancing around. acceptance a must. i want to forget you, forget that it happened.. lao tzu said if you’re depressed you’re living in the past. if you’re living in the future, then its anxiety. i’m trying to delete this undo button on the time machine. i want to speak to the one. whether it be with our feet or our tongues. I’m used to this dance. exchanging euphemisms or moving to trance. don’t lose me. opportunities snatched.

i don’t know how to express myself without giving away, exact detail, but still obscuring the day. the sunset, and the rain, the gun smoke, the malaise, the perspiring. tired breaths, fire sex. i couldn’t talk.  because 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. it’s tough being an alien. 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 that’s exposed. i love sleet, hail and the snow. they’re the same thing just at different times of the year. like.. we are. or we were. i love to be in control. i hate underlying factors. i hate underlining tantrums. i hate when the sun provides a mountain of sunshine for eternity. i hate uncertainty. being doused in a punchline is concerning.  i dislike being lost. implant a GPS in my dome, let it beep when I’m gone. come sing me a song, lea salonga, let me show you the world. an interrupted reality where romanticism is whole. where erotic fiction overturns symphonic diction thats promised. everything i input is invalid or old. I can’t put my finger on it.

I’m back again. I identified the problem. Happiness can’t be figured out. That’s the point. you’re either a vastly void barcode, or a single celled, organism. that was an awful way to put what I’ve been trying to mean. and honestly

i didn’t say what i wanted to scream. i’ve got a troll that lives under the bridge where sound comes out of in the link of my throat. a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow isn’t enough to bring him to home. you live and you tell stories for these generations to see. I’m barely better than i was 5 minutes ago. but barely is better than nothing. i plead. pitch me a tent to live in. please, don’t let me down. sometimes i’ll take a shower, and put it on freezing. and sit there until i figure it out. goosebumps surround sound. sound cut off. curtain close. audience gasp. slowclap. then taking a bow.

wallflower here

Cristian Leonardo

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.
i’m.. difficult.
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
that
you do.
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
of pettifoggers
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
anymore
theres somebody waiting