Honest mistake

It’s everywhere, it’s everywhere

I feel crowded in this empty room and alone in a crowded room

Paradoxical only when you haven’t been there

Only when you haven’t felt the same words mean different upon repetition

LEAVE me alone” “Leave ME alone”

STAY gone” “Stay GONE

 

Serenity

Where have you abandoned me?

It happens everywhere now, did I tell you? It happens everywhere

Triggered

What theme do I fit you in? You were everything

I see a glimpse of you in every tangible, intangible only in these distorted memories

 

I’m doing it again, this little thing where I trace back my steps

To make sure I don’t step on the lines I’ve already stepped on

Mistake

noun

Definition 1: “an act or judgement that is misguided or wrong”

Definition 2: “something, especially a word, figure, or fact, which is not correct; an inaccuracy”

verb

Definition 3: “be wrong about”

Definition 4: “wrongly identify someone or something as”

 

I burnt every page, except the corner of the last one, last abstraction

Because every time you ended a thought, you pressed the ballpoint a bit too hard

Almost to the point where, the next page, inherited, the pain of the precedent

Your subtle ways a secret I have kept

You, on the other hand, have vanished

“Just because you’re around doesn’t mean that you’re around.”

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Wakefulness

Crippled by this insensitive take on what surrounds
These surroundings

Have you ever been so close? Parted the biscuit symmetrically, only for it to be submerged in coffee that is meant to be just THAT, detached from the tips of your fingers

The sea of your worries, the foam bubbling, trouble lurking

For a way in

These attires

“Nearly had fucking everything!”


I am dribbling with the sanctity of life

Whirling in the wind that has befriended my weak condition

Only in my favour will it be, until I seek denounced salvation

Of the kind that requires of you wakefulness, piercing focus

The lack thereof, musings, deserving diversions

Had I known all my deviations would lead me back to You

I would’ve been a lot less fearful, of everything else

A handful of sand slipping, happily, serenity now

In all that falls in place

With Your remembrance.

Places in faces

IMG_20171124_001725“Do they not think that their words have weight?”

There has got to be a face that is read for what it is
Should time really account for innocence lost?

I mean, to lose that which you left behind in childhood and go back to it again, aware

God knows how much I’ve stored, meaningful in its meaningless description
And how much I’ve discarded, only to be met with it again, in another form

A feather in the stream
Trying to regain in flight what shed it

“The mysterious weakness of men’s faces”

“Smooth and smiling faces everywhere, but ruin in their eyes.”

Had I expression enough, to walk you through it

It’d feel like I’ve robbed you of His revelation

My bones shiver, my voice trembles, as this thought becomes concrete

Pale as dusk, disillusionment; two-fold

Subjective and objective truths

are not enough

Scarlet

A self-editing mechanism, mutually shredding a guitar

The blues of it, the itch, the ache in running sandpaper through infant skin

The different ways I come back to you, the same way you receive me

Too many humans, their vagueness a stream you drink from, time and again

The embezzler in you they think is rogue; you qualify as honest

What is dishonesty but honesty to few?

What is honesty but diplomacy to the masses?

I changed the day you looked at me odd when I picked the cherry with the longest stem

You thought it was a no-brainer I did so for the knot, just a tease, but I didn’t

At the time, the only thing with a knot was my tongue, yet, I wasn’t tongue-tied

Let me walk you through the irony of it…see…the deeper the roots of the stem, the kinder the juice to spill when you pull it out

‘cherries belong to the rose family’

The big five

The most economic, yet the deadliest

If you can’t kill the culprit, at least get your hands on his partner in crime

The brighter scarlet, the sour in tasteless sweet

An old encyclopedia you just dusted off, and put back on the shelf

After all, wasn’t there a dead rose in it? Ah, but its fragrance remains…

 

The archer that strikes from behind

It must make sense to synchronize a body

into a series of the complex; rust unpolished.

Less sense, however, to digest the susceptibility

of the rough, with the raw, with the weary

To the orphans of this gawky road, can’t even‍

I’ll pretend it’s alright, it is as much as it isn’t

You’d give it all, just to gain it all

Don’t. Even for a minute

Convince your other self

That woodpeckers carve because they sculpt.

 

Walking on thin ice

Winter and summer went extinct

When they thought of what kept them thin

Spring might have been intensifying,

but it was as cruel as someone snatching away scent

from flowers that wanted to be sniffed

By some asthmatic old man, his last wish,

telling us

that he preferred dying from the pollen that already wanted him dead


He was dancing on delicate glass,

and then playing Frisbee with it’s leftovers


And the dumpster that was suddenly noticed

By flashlights

Realized

How pathetic fame was


No matter how much you try and freeze anger

it will erupt

and boil surfaces, already condensed.


It’s like trying to equate the numbers on an equation

One plus negative one

Infamous

Never cancelling

One half only hunches to watch the rest keep a straight posture, boastful


Isn’t that ancient history?

Signs that seagulls and snitches have only found more careful ways

to control their wings with


How far apart are we

Yet feel like boomerangs in mid flight
Uncertain of whether they will ever come back

Uncertain whether it was even us, or something else

that swung them against the abominable breeze

that promised warmth,

but cracked ice instead.


It wasn’t the ice, you goof

Just put on different shoes

Go ice-skating

Just go, dammit, just walk.