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…

 

As the smoke lingers

In and out, of rehab

I mean, most of the time, no one quite speaks literally.

They don’t know, they can only assume

of what it takes to shatter a soul.

What robs you of your sleep, probably, maybe, most definitely, what do I know?

Fragmented  little puzzles, crossroads of the mind.

This piano, these hands, this rusty ol’ surface.

The out of tune, the mystery yet to swoon.

You can’t mold me, this telltale realm of space, my voice metamorphosed.

The margins within are so narrow, the wisdom of things scarce.

The fear of your own oblivion, you say you wait for nothing

but the gutless in you knows, that’s what you have been surrounded with

and so the familiar comforts in its veil.

This overflow of the conventional, makes me yearn for masks

aesthetically unacceptable, it amuses me.

The joyous music, the bitter tongue.

But then again, tenderness outburst,

defies brutal rage, beauty repelled at those that sought it only with their eyes.

You stare long enough at the gush, static motion

of paralyzing waves; this sonic rumble, and you understand.

The stronger they rush, the slower they recede

The dominance in the force, a halt in the hearts

In the eternity of a second, stretchered far too long, far too far.

Farewell

Sleepless, asleep through the storms
A furnished essence, pulled out of me
Crippling all my senses in a queer way

I forgot to dedicate this to you, hey
Credits to you for being a lingering memory
A road I’ve known for long, like a fucked up face

Zig zag, all the way up, all its way down
I’ve been dancing to my disasters
Crushing my sworn enemy, falling none

There was once a piece I read
That said that there was no journey
It all arrives and departs right away

It liberates me to know, the more we seek
This homesickness, it extinguishes the ability
Of wilderness to breathe our snow

As much as it is cold here, one day
A flag will wave down this canopy, at you
And every prayer for somebody else will salute you farewell

Defranchise your soul

This perverse utopia
Makes me question
The myth that won’t wash away

Anything is as everything you want it to be
An epidemic for a cure

Cattle getting sick; slaughtered
To protect the herd
Its head, bowling downhill
Undead

Whether you’re the weapon, or the target
Or the trigger
For the unsincerities of the seeker
You are just as responsible

Either you sink the ship,
Or let me go

Whether you invent fire
By friction and stones
Or
Defranchise your soul

You,
Awoken mirage of dreams
See it for what it is
Yet take bread for loaf

Them,
The perfect example
Of monsoon running through their veins
Fate decided for them

Gentle, be gentle
There is a thin line, between being honest
And being a dirtbag
Don’t cross it

Paint me

Just as you and I, were indecisive about Piggy from Lord of the flies

Whether or not, savages exist or could have

Decorum of funerals; morality, mortality, depravity

Mingling with each other

The way a totalitarian system should’ve worked

The fruit I could not reach; the conch ceasing to exist

“Maybe if there is a beast… maybe it’s only us”

Weeping for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart

The fragments of the wheres and whens

Shove me in a ground zero from which all this bias radiates

 

 

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.

Paper plane on a stone

Wouldn’t trade it for the world

I see a paper plane

sit on a stone, commonplace, nothing grand

made by an anonymous entity

˜ ˜ ˜

It doesn’t have propellers, not even an engine, not even a life

And yet,

with a single touch of wind,

spreads itself like a drop of water

expanded

on a flat surface.

˜ ˜ ˜

And yet, so delicately,

flip, flap,

flip

and

flap

˜ ˜ ˜

Whoever made it, wanted it to stay,

even without staying

For it was attached to the stone

with a string

That too,

about to lose itself, still hanging on

˜ ˜ ˜

And in a fine moment of detachment

to be in yet out of myself

into it

˜ ˜ ˜

I looked at it

like a ghost cat

looking at the world,

in the seconds it comes to contact with a sun

it avoided

‘Beautiful things don’t ask for attention’

˜ ˜ ˜

Telling time to stop

and retrospect

to its own

distraction of flight

˜ ˜ ˜

Takes a while

to stop time

Takes a while to notice something so small

For God’s sake

Forget the skies!

They’re carved onto your own fingerprints

and you still thought you noticed everything…

˜ ˜ ˜

Do you understand?

Do you?

˜ ˜ ˜

An ant struggles when it rains

Every drop, is a grenade

dropping all the burdens

the clouds carry for us

They speak all we couldn’t

‘Shhh’ let it be

let it carry you away

˜ ˜ ˜

Just know,

that liking rain

doesn’t mean

you’re evil,

It just means

that

it’s somebody else’s turn

to soak

˜ ˜ ˜

And come out clean

to their own idea of being

˜ ˜ ˜

Maybe one day the string

like clogged veins that cause a heart attack

will cry helpless

˜ ˜ ˜

But that day

its flight will come to recede

Trying to accept that it’s not

something to keep

Without the risk, of needing to speed

when it slows down

sticking

to a stone that watches it bleed