Filled with heavy pain,
As words stand me up once again.
The competition to be the first
To stop caring about the other
Remains disputed.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Back from Gurgaon
(Written July 8, 2015, approximately 11:00 pm)
Have you broken through the thicket of life?
Can you breathe yet?
Is it unfair
To compare
The heaviness of my head
To the lead
In the vilified Maggi?
Taste is lost
In the forest of tears.
But the knowledge of experience
Persists.
Your tongue on my neck
Is surrender
To experience.
The sandpaper behind my eyelids
Makes
Every vision
A reason
For weeping.
My breathlessness and wheezing
Is on me.
My pain:
Is that also on me?
Have you broken through the thicket of life?
Can you breathe yet?
Is it unfair
To compare
The heaviness of my head
To the lead
In the vilified Maggi?
Taste is lost
In the forest of tears.
But the knowledge of experience
Persists.
Your tongue on my neck
Is surrender
To experience.
The sandpaper behind my eyelids
Makes
Every vision
A reason
For weeping.
My breathlessness and wheezing
Is on me.
My pain:
Is that also on me?
Thursday, September 4, 2014
(Untitled)
(Written September 5, 2014, at 2:26 am.)
Who understands the dynamics of communication?
I wish you were laying on my back
with your nose nuzzled in my neck
and your hand cupping my breast.
(I wish you liked my breasts.)
I want to be able to turn my face
and have my lips find yours
in a sleepily passionate surrender.
There's so much I want to say to you (like that).
The thought of your mouth
on my lower back
in a forgiving, accepting kiss
is a mirage.
There's so much more I want to say to you (like that).
There's so much I don't understand.
I would like the pieces of me to be held together
in your palms.
You're a puzzle I want to put together.
Do I have every piece of you?
Who understands the dynamics of communication?
I wish you were laying on my back
with your nose nuzzled in my neck
and your hand cupping my breast.
(I wish you liked my breasts.)
I want to be able to turn my face
and have my lips find yours
in a sleepily passionate surrender.
There's so much I want to say to you (like that).
The thought of your mouth
on my lower back
in a forgiving, accepting kiss
is a mirage.
There's so much more I want to say to you (like that).
There's so much I don't understand.
I would like the pieces of me to be held together
in your palms.
You're a puzzle I want to put together.
Do I have every piece of you?
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Sleep
(Written on December 25, 2012, at 4:05 am.)
You are the singular weight on my chest
You are the worst of my absolute best
You fight the corners of my lips from a genuine smile
You are the shortest time I've seen in a while
If you could just bite my neck and lick my lip
If you could just look with your confusing eyes at my hip
I might just kiss you myself, again
I might just be able to sleep, then
You are the singular weight on my chest
You are the worst of my absolute best
You fight the corners of my lips from a genuine smile
You are the shortest time I've seen in a while
If you could just bite my neck and lick my lip
If you could just look with your confusing eyes at my hip
I might just kiss you myself, again
I might just be able to sleep, then
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Death
(Written at age 25.)
Did you hear Death knock
And grumble about the lock
On the door it didn't know would be there?
Did you hear It sigh in despair
That you were trying to resist
And that It'd have to insist
On taking you?
Did you turn the music up loud
And decide to be too proud
To acknowledge that you can only ever be free
Not inside your mortality,
But outside of it?
Or did Its tired heave
Make you believe
That maybe you shouldn't fight?
Were you tempted to invite
It in
To share a Lagavulin
And ask for Its wisdom?
Did you have a conversation
About the constellation
of Life in the universe of Death?
Was It grateful for the chat
And decide that at
This time it didn't want to take you?
Did you bid it adieu?
Did you find yourself left with an inexplicable frown?
Did you finally close your eyes
And for once,
See nothing?
Did you hear Death knock
And grumble about the lock
On the door it didn't know would be there?
Did you hear It sigh in despair
That you were trying to resist
And that It'd have to insist
On taking you?
Did you turn the music up loud
And decide to be too proud
To acknowledge that you can only ever be free
Not inside your mortality,
But outside of it?
Or did Its tired heave
Make you believe
That maybe you shouldn't fight?
Were you tempted to invite
It in
To share a Lagavulin
And ask for Its wisdom?
Did you have a conversation
About the constellation
of Life in the universe of Death?
Was It grateful for the chat
And decide that at
This time it didn't want to take you?
Did you bid it adieu?
Did you find yourself left with an inexplicable frown?
Did you finally close your eyes
And for once,
See nothing?
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Look at Me
(Written October 25, 2012, at 8:36 pm.)
Wake up and look at me.
I don't know how much longer I'll be here.
Seeing recognition in your eyes
Might give me a few extra breaths
To look at you.
Wake up and look at me.
I don't know when I'll become someone else.
A familiar smile from you
Might slow the departure
Of everything I know as me.
Wake up, please, and look at me
Before everything changes except you,
And before I can't even lament that I don't know who I am
Because I'm so busy turning to stone realizing that you don't know who I am anymore, either.
Stranger.
Wake up and look at me.
I don't know how much longer I'll be here.
Seeing recognition in your eyes
Might give me a few extra breaths
To look at you.
Wake up and look at me.
I don't know when I'll become someone else.
A familiar smile from you
Might slow the departure
Of everything I know as me.
Wake up, please, and look at me
Before everything changes except you,
And before I can't even lament that I don't know who I am
Because I'm so busy turning to stone realizing that you don't know who I am anymore, either.
Stranger.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Heart
(Written October 13, 2012, at 4:24 am.)
Stab its muscle.
Let spill its contents
On the indiscernible context.
As it empties and becomes still,
Let the colour of its contents
Seep into the topography of its paradigm.
Most parts will return
To their black, white and grey,
But some will shone a pale pink,
Some will breathe a bright red,
Others will groan under a heavy scarlet.
Look at these coloured parts.
They are all that mean anything,
The ones that retained any of it.
They absorb the liberated energy.
The pink ones will pulsate ostentatiously,
Trying to draw attention to mild matters
That once mattered.
The red ones will throb at a steady pace,
Not complaining,
But never forgetting.
The scarlet ones will barely be able to beat
Under their own weight.
They are too significant to forget,
And too dangerous to remember.
Faces will carve each other
In thick streams
In the scarlet.
Faces will stare at each other
Through thick streams
In the scarlet.
They will each feel diminished
In the gaze of the others,
And they will attempt
To extinguish themselves
For lack of definition.
If one triumphs,
And finds its way back into the muscle,
Let it.
Do it thus,
So I will know
Only if it's worth knowing.
Stab its muscle.
Let spill its contents
On the indiscernible context.
As it empties and becomes still,
Let the colour of its contents
Seep into the topography of its paradigm.
Most parts will return
To their black, white and grey,
But some will shone a pale pink,
Some will breathe a bright red,
Others will groan under a heavy scarlet.
Look at these coloured parts.
They are all that mean anything,
The ones that retained any of it.
They absorb the liberated energy.
The pink ones will pulsate ostentatiously,
Trying to draw attention to mild matters
That once mattered.
The red ones will throb at a steady pace,
Not complaining,
But never forgetting.
The scarlet ones will barely be able to beat
Under their own weight.
They are too significant to forget,
And too dangerous to remember.
Faces will carve each other
In thick streams
In the scarlet.
Faces will stare at each other
Through thick streams
In the scarlet.
They will each feel diminished
In the gaze of the others,
And they will attempt
To extinguish themselves
For lack of definition.
If one triumphs,
And finds its way back into the muscle,
Let it.
Do it thus,
So I will know
Only if it's worth knowing.
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