This Should Not Exist

Can't help but be horrified of sunsets
can't help but be despaired facing facets
of life that ought to have passed

barging in
through windows of my glasshouse,
a hurricane
tearing at these walls built by weary hands
Yet there we go, my past it calls
hammering on doors forgotten
and now its sound vibrates through these walls
crumbling them, sending them to the floor.

I stand amidst these
ruins
trying to repair my home
scared of flying to the moon alone.

God has no strength in me.

His efforts have failed to be effective at all,
for I am no receiver
not a strong-enough believer.

I've lost control, I've lost it all,
can't stand to see this sun setting,
for I am too weak
to shut out darkness from my past
and so my house shall fall.

Castles in the Sand

Let's run away
and get some ice cream.
Like birds tapping their feet
we'll ignore everything they told us not to do
and run away together.

Hand in hand, against the sunset
bathed in colors of our hearts,
we hold on to each other
and let go of our tracks in the sand
where, for a while now,
my steps guard yours
and yours guard mine.

We'll laugh and mock them all
enjoying our castles in the sand.
A prince and a princess, turning circles
with smiles powerful enough
to brighten a widow's face.

I say to you what I can't tell myself
and together we build castles in the sand
until tides tickle our toes and take them away.



Image from: http://poisongirl-sts.deviantart.com/art/Castles-in-the-Sand-117265503

The Gift of Silence

Please talk to me. Give sound
to what you're hiding from me,
grudges held against foolish mistakes.

Your silence, like nails on a chalkboard,
terrifies me. It paralyzes me.
I feel poisoned, as hallucinations
begin to fade into my mind.

This absence of words is killing me.
Once your knight in shining armor,
all glass trophies I've won seem shattered
and held together by nothing but tape.

Shapeless, these thoughts hover about,
searching for something to hold onto.

If only you would speak to me,
I could grasp my roots again
and rise, a golem against the sunset.

Give me a chance to fail,
don't make me watch us both decay.



Image from: http://artmguy.deviantart.com/art/silence-67777103

Rhetoric Downfall

When will I know?
When will I know why you died
in the arms of a peon, slaving away
to get keys to your heart.

I am the master of keys, yet
I am abomination, a downfall I share
with Greek myths, heroic legends.
When will I be able to see?

After all, this is where I want to be.
Where I'm meant to be, right?
Missed the fucking deadline. Again.

So solace me, catch my tears like leaves
catch the rain as I see drops pearl off your skin.
I know that I've known all along:
You're only made of plastic.



Image from: http://pompography.deviantart.com/art/Nature-s-Cry-II-64740621

Sign Here, Please

Understand.
You glue yourself to pages you've covered
with your own name, over and over again,
so desperately trying to fill every last space
until there is nothing but smudged black ink
and bizarre face to be seen
if only you had the imagination
to understand.

"That pen will run out eventually, you know that."
"Do I care? I wont give up, not before - "
"Before what?"
"That, old friend, is for me to know."



Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/buzsuforever/2367156649/

I Hate Airports

I hate airports.
Travel here or travel there,
opportunity after opportunity for those who are lost
among the bloodshed of capitalistic greed,
drowning in desires of others, drowning
just like their fathers.

There is a floater around, breathing air
through crests of crashing waves.
Kept afloat by a life vest,
only thing he ever truly cared for.

Filled with air to its brim, straps tightly fastened
flashlight blinking, he attracts attention of sharks:
the rulers of this sea,
divine power.

But their teeth do not find his flesh.
His skin is too thick, like leather
beaten over and over again.
Shaped by brute force, pure hatred
towards all living things,

except for his one.



Image from: http://doublemind.deviantart.com/art/Airport-38135397

Family

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Times that tremble through you
passing by a passive mind,
jamming triggers of weapons like dust
on an old album, slowly scratching away
tunes that used to brighten our days.

It is to be felt abruptly, a realization
that things can still go wrong.
For no matter how hard you try
how hard you want for it to go well,
nothing is in your hands.
Cigarettes are lit, but never smoked.

Soon the plagues will come and crawl,
make a mess of what you've spent
your whole life building like a busy queen ant.
Soon, my dear, you shall not ever be seen,
ever again.

So rest your tongue, for words only make heavier
the burden of you, we endure
your wishes, questions and fallouts.
We are family.



Image from: http://the-oxette.deviantart.com/art/Grandma-2-92502797

Harp at a Funeral

Please help me
for I am too happy with who I am.
Birds singing, rain sprinkling and candy
in all possible variations.

Greeted by a hot door handle,
a nod and a smile, I sigh
feeling it creep underneath my skin
a sinner's last meal is meant to be...

Heat strokes attacking my eyes
filling them with warmth where cold resides
from now 'till forever.
Can't you see? I love this place.
I've been home where I did not intend,
now I long for yesterday's beating heart
and tomorrow's festivities.

He stands, serenading for who decides to pass.
Through a looking glass, he smiles at us,
sings one last song
before he packs his seven things
to leave this room in silence.

A flutter here, a whisper there.
He left us in despair, a place where
no Monroe is fair, no saint will share.
A place so empty,
echoes are scared.




Image from: http://jimduvall.deviantart.com/art/2004-20-37906976

Catharsis

Every morning I look at myself,
I ask some questions. The same questions.
Some are worse than others,
An interrogation fit for a liar.

Do I have the right to?
Yes – world peace is in danger.

I make hands, arms and legs
Move around, perfectly choreographed.
Even my smile joins in.

Dancing for the masses.
Worriless, blazing with love in halogen.

All this hate I feel
It is not meant for others,
But meant to achieve what no one has.

If you want peace,
Prepare for war.



Image from: http://exoticpeach.deviantart.com/art/Self-Hate-83072960

Caught in Difference

Like penciled lines these doubts
circle my mind.
Thin enough to escape an ordinary eye.
Thick enough to black out the sky.

Scurrile, pumping through my veins.

Their roots are long and firm
embracing my eyes every time
I attempt to turn away
from shady sights that fill my hands
with goodies of yesterday.

Go away. Leave me, for I will break
my neck trying to move on
with ropes wrapped around my head.

I cannot see, nor will I ever be
able to comprehend
why you held on for your sake.

You gave your thread a tug.
You put my doubts and life
to end.



Image from: http://crusader333.deviantart.com/art/Caught-118311147

We Will Walk Wherever We Want

These silver tiles we walk
with feet bruised and clothes torn
hungry for the feel of grass
and morning dew between our toes.

Through hell we walked together,
hand in hand. A force so strong
knees of Gods would bend
if only they would understand.

Bruises, marks and scars
reflecting in light from the stars
like tattoos with voices
softly humming our names.

We do not look ahead.
There is no need to fear these tiles.

In time we will realize
that all we ever needed
is not in front of us.

It’s all right here.
We are right here.




Image from: http://andrea-reyes.deviantart.com/art/I-Just-Wanna-Hold-Her-Hand-165587233

Houston, We Have No Problem

Once an aspiring astronaut
I have turned my luck, tossed a coin
and faced every situation.

Whatever it takes.
Whatever it takes.

Was it the wrong suit?
The wrong type of training routine?
We have outgrown our journeys.

With feet bruised and colorless hair,
we see our young selves
in reflections on this sea.

And like tidal waves we fly towards the moon,
rise above horizons, outrunning time itself
and escape the atmosphere.

To where we will be free.

And here, where sounds cannot be heard
and sounds need not be made,
we will find our place
to sit in peace, close our eyes
and be.


Image from: http://grokulsky.deviantart.com/art/Astronaut-40559898

Long-Distance Good-Byes

Like guns these words fight for peace.
What am I to you?
A fallen soldier in the mud
A broken promise for a better future.

Turning wheels, twisting bones.
Can you smell it?
Thick scent of photos ignored
behind covers of dusty books
will you dare to use your hands to

open pages of happy masks
that will never tire of helping you
smile away in late-night drinks
engulfed by classical music
and pompous smoke.

You dwell on these photos
especially those of me, for
they remind you
of the puppet I used to be.



Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mamiyaesdedia/5008861651/

An Idealist Perspective

It all begins when my mind's freedom
ties me to a chair, making every
hair rise up to fight.

Horrid anticipation.

The first few furious times
do not hurt, I
bite all pain into my tongue as you
force me to be a spectator

of my own downfall.

My face stays still.
While skin that has not seen
light
gives way to much darker things.
For now.

Eventually I fall victim to the ill
you instill in me with each consecutive blow
until even your lack of breath
feels like razor blades in my eyes.

You're a shame for all living things.

Let me give you some advice, you
should strike where wounds can be hidden.

No one will know.
"This stays between us"
and you grab hold of a blade.

You grin at me, while slowly
yet passionately driving it
between my ribs.

With each millimeter
your smile grows wider
your eyes grow brighter.

You humor me. Supposedly you speak
the truth and nothing but the truth,
yet you have given me a scapegoat.

Oh, dear mirror.
How I love you.



Image from: http://samurajgrzes.deviantart.com/art/Mirror-86676128

A Whiplash of Punishment

Bizarre chants and scents, blindfolded
by fire in my eyes.

Is this the way you make me believe
in your fable convictions?

At my own peril I dug out beds for wilted flowers.
"Let them sleep!" you said.
So I obeyed your wishes, I
took them to sleep.

Who do you really hold accountable for this?

I must have worked too shallow here and there,
blooming seeds mock us in red moonlight
as I hear you chanting away
faith you used to have.

Go away and prove your innocence to someone else,
I need not know about your mundane excuses.
My judgment has struck you
like an ax felling a tree.

You have no roots.
Nothing to be put to sleep.



Image from: http://mrabanal.deviantart.com/art/Grave-121704175?q=boost%3Apopular+grave&qo=41

You're Only Young Once

You disgust me.
You pride yourself with visions implanted by escapes.
Escapes from that excuse you call life, you
make me watch over and over again

as drops of white take you to oblivion.

Don't you see? It comes at a price
not worth paying. You waste yourself in fantasies
of places where you forget
about your self-pity.

Upon your return all you long for is to go back
to where a few breaths took you
for just half an hour.

Do you really hate yourself that much?
Do you need to escape from yourself,
because I'm not the only one disgusted
by your reflection? What is left?

Just know, eventually I will stop watching.
I will turn away. I'll leave you to sink
in your own pile of excuses and attempts
to justify the way you live your life.

I've lost all respect
but this time
I won't ever come back.



Image from: http://oofailedoo.deviantart.com/art/Drug-Addiction-91534545

From the Outside

Cries of a voice echo, distinguished from all others.
"He's alright. He'll come to work tomorrow."
Held up by his friends, he walks
behind the memory of his father,
just fast enough to keep up
despite his feet, shaking of heartache.

Everyone has come to watch
and share their own recollections,
while two mothers cry, for they
have lost a son.
One of them buries her oldest child - why?
Why him? He was clean of all sin.

Yet amongst turmoil of voices and tears
he is forgotten. He's too small to be noticed.
His youngest son does not join in.
He taps his feet to rhythms his father taught him,
waiting for the moment to settle
in his mind and heart
for he has not realized. At that moment,
he was too young.



Image from: http://lonelypierot.deviantart.com/art/Boy-Religious-procession-82749148?q=boost%3Apopular+procession&qo=7

Hi, My Name Is Paul and I'm a Sleepwalker

It spoke to me, just the other day.
The moon. I saw its face again, shining its light
wherever I walk. It answered my questions,
told me I'll be alright, even
without its light.

As I walk, I get closer, nearer with each step
that sounds like a marching army in ears
of a spectator.

Though you're not here, I can feel you
pushing my legs to keep moving.
"Keep moving forward, towards the moon."
Towards you.

Soon I will be able to run instead of walk.
Give a butterfly some time to cause its effect,
so it will bat its wings as fast as a bee.

At the end of this, I see it: we will reign
each other's hearts. But don't forget:
send a card to the moon.
Say thank you.



Image from: http://montiljo.deviantart.com/art/Sleepwalker-175626767

Twice Over

I'll explode.
I swear it this is not a warning
this is a doubtless promise
carved in your memory.

One more time I tell you
just go there one more time and
you won't live to see your face again.
Not as you know it.
Anyway

don't listen, shut your ears
I'm nothing more than a fountain
without water, a gun without bullets.
Please, stay close,

for I love you. Say it again if you like,
I won't get angry.
Or maybe just a little?
Don't dare me, I'll explode.
I swear it.



Image from: http://grinch7.deviantart.com/art/Fight-CLub3-109013787

Loops of a Rollercoaster

Repeat it.
Repeat it again and again,
I didn't quite hear words
I can preach with my mouth closed.
Repeat it, just this one time
won't make a difference.

I can't taste my blood anymore, my
tongue is burnt, has been ravished by
your temper, your ice-cold temper has

taken me to places I wish I'd never
go, places no man has passed
through without passing on his soul
for nothing in return.

So please repeat those three words
that tempted me into this.
Repeat them one more time,
like you used to.

Repeat them one last time, so
I can put my dry lips to rest.
Or at least try.




Image from: http://ivaly.deviantart.com/art/Breath-114515074