Tuesday, July 22, 2014

three a.m.





there's a hint of madness in my melodies lately
my heart has been crucified to the dreams
that started this firethis darkening desire i bear
like a lunar eclipse, always half hidden 
yet seemingly illuminating all at once 
the scratching of my pencil upon a blank page
is a fulfilling chorus of intricate sympathies
sensual strokes with fervent fingertips
like the blood that flows through my tender veins
write
write
write 
(i'm screaming)
and the cursor can't taunt me on paper
it feels foreign caressing these keys 
but, i must admit... 
it's quicker this way; dirtier even
my thoughts have clouded the roads once more
creating misty silhouettes like phantom whispers in my ear
yet when i turn, there's no one there
and i have to remind myself the ground is down
speaking of which, i took a walk in the woods recently
(my breath heavy; inhale life — exhale dust)
the crunch of earth under toe rouses slumbering thoughts
i can feel my insides simmer on low
suddenly, i no longer just exist; i'm halfway human
i muse at how many footprints i'd have to tread 
to be an entire one
i'd pursue the white rabbit a thousand miles 
if it meant i'd be full when i got to wonderland
but, will i ever be?
oftentimes i can be melodramatic; it's in my bones
my emotions change like the colors of a mood ring
but i'd like to think i'm just ALIVEi feel things eccentrically deep
it's bottomless, you know?
and the way my words flow most freely is through poetry
braided into an intricacy; a complexity
and that doesn't make me any less or more than you
i'm just me.



photo : here




Tuesday, July 08, 2014

soliloquy


perhaps we are all destined for a life of perpetual seeking; for ways in which to reveal our true selves with words. accumulating notebooks and journals with failed attempts or close calls- scarlet secrets, either written with just too much precision or splattered like blood athwart each page. 

i do believe there is a person that breaths within us that we are often times heedless to. the mad spirit in ourselves that stirs the tempest in our hearts; unfurling fluxes of emotions that are only sometimes granted to flow freely from our aching fingertips. 

and then suddenly...

a blank page is a canvas of possibility  a desert where we are liberated to bleed an ocean. do you ever peel back your skin and cut open your veins to see that feral being before you? do you veil yourself behind metaphors and brushstrokes so thick your face is dripping with distortion...?

i know i will forever write. and never will i paint you with the depths that you possess, never will i glean the love that dwells within my heart. but i will be damned if i cease daring to depict feelings with my words... 

will i ever call myself a poet? 


Wednesday, July 02, 2014

elixir vitae

it cannot be restrained
this tempest rousing in my veins
a hurricane of sand 
spinning in this hourglass
of expectancy

i bear the requisite need 

to taste your words;
your voice like sex and poetry
a moonrise rhapsody—  
a metaphor for all that could never be 
illustrated with innocence;
a secret imploding amongst 
a collision of stars like instruments 

to lose myself within your eyes 
your mystical, empyreal orbs
like dusty sapphires hiding your soul 
philosophically flowing 
like honey;
a mellifluous drizzle of 
complexity, take me

your silhouette is etched upon 
my irises, imprinted into memory 
and the clock is watching me
taunting me with its incessant
tick— 
and the sand continues to drip 
a pendulum separating me from you 

infinitely reminding me 
that time is chaos 
naked of your touch
where the silky folds of 
midnight won't caress me
not while i am gasping
to breathe your breath

and when the time runs out
i'll whisper — 

"bring me back to life."





Friday, June 27, 2014

acquiescence





swallow me like 
you do that pill
drink me until 
your edges muddy
into pretty abstractions
unzip my skin 
acquaint with my demons
tempt me with fingers
wrapped unflinchingly around 
your dose of escapism
i'm desperate for
a hit off your mind
i'll follow you
down the rabbit hole 
of prismatic delusions
take me; i surrender. 


photo : pinterest

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

i believe...



...that it's perfectly okay to just not know.

...that if you come across a book you love, that just won't leave your thoughts, then it is your personal responsibility to share it with everyone you know.

...that a cup of coffee (or two) can be great and all, but sometimes you just need to drink half the pot. 

...that you should always appreciate a friend who can tell you the raw truth. 

...that sometimes all you really need to hear is "yes, i understand."

...and that every person you know has something to teach you- and it's our job to find out what that something is and learn from them.

photo : mine


Wednesday, June 18, 2014

sixteen



i knew a boy who devoted
each dawn to the birth 
of new dreams
painting his smile 
like hues of blue
in a brush of guileless fury

his eyes a throbbing green
like the grass caressing 
your naked feet
glistening like celestial 
stars at midnight 

his words were songs
the many-tongued-mimic
sought to imitate like 
melodies hummed 
in the moon-kissed forest

i knew a boy who should
be on an endless road
with the windows down 
and the air grazing his face
with the music of living 

but he is gone and what is it like
to celebrate a day where the 
beloved is naught by an asomatous 
spirit, clinging to the memories
like the hand of our mother.

i know a boy who i call 
my brother; eyes
meaty with imagination
and today is his birthday 
16 candles flickering in the dark
like my heart, submerged in gloom
i love you. 


photo : taken by me, a month before his death

Monday, June 16, 2014

rebellion


burn your poetry
onto my selfish flesh
finger paint my skin
that is trembling with 
greedy desire

can you not fathom?
i have bled myself dry
to fill my veins 
entirely of you

and my defiance has decayed
like sandcastles swept away 
softened with your words
sculpted to your specific design 

i can't recall who i was yesterday
and today, shrouded in your 
armor of recusancy
i just know; before you
i never truly existed

Thursday, June 12, 2014

supernova



your eyes like black holes swallow me, entirely 
and i’m misplaced within your atmosphere
gently prodding throughout your essence 
penetrating your metaphysical depth
your edges are obscured, hidden like precious stories
riddled in hand-me-down words and the scent of philosophy
you empower the substance of my thoughts 
you pull me into your gravitational abyss 
and i am consumed by you
i am ravenous for you
there is no escaping you. 

photo : tumblr.

Monday, June 09, 2014

philosophizing




last night, while in that strange 'no-man's-land' between awake and asleep (which, by the way, is such a fantastic realm for deep thinking) i realized that i have this deep inner fear of speaking my mind, of my ever changing truth, my internal convictions. fear of being deemed as inconsistent, annoying, pseudo-spiritual, pseudo-intellectual, hipster, ignorant, delusional, arrogant, too wordy, too incoherent, trying too hard to seem smart, revealing too much, being called out, or projecting an image of uniqueness. it's very seldom where i feel sure enough of myself to voice my ideas. why am i so frightened of allowing my true self to flourish? 

i have always been the quiet one, the observer, the shy girl who just kinda floats on the outskirts, and i have always felt completely at peace with that. but the older and perhaps wiser i become, there's this inherent desire growing inside of me just screaming to be more confident... to accept myself and the thoughts that i have, of my ever changing philosophy. for though it may set me apart... my ideas are what make me, me. i need to embrace them rather than shy away from them.


i seek a deeper understanding of concepts i grew up having a faith in the unexplained. and now i feel intoxicated with the idea that there are so many inconsistencies within myself and the universe and so many questions to ask and so, so much to learn! cause, i am inconsistent as fuck, and i guess what i am trying to say is that it's okay. i want to bask in the interconnected continuums of my existence. i want to embrace my unusualness, my weirdness, my nerdiness, my craziness, but mostly i want to learn to not allow other people to make me feel small for asking questions that perhaps makes them feel threatened.


i am an individual; i am my own universe getting to know itself. 

photo : tumblr

Saturday, May 31, 2014

untitled


sometimes i feel like i just need to write. oftentimes, i don't know why or what it is that needs to be expressed. the beauty is, it always seems to find its own way out if i can just get myself to start typing. it's as if i'm coaxing words out of some hidden nook within me. i started running again a few months ago and i have settled myself into a natural routine which includes waking up earlier to a reddish sky that reminds me of the glint of innumerable rubies and how the air feels breathless with hope. there is something eerie about the early morning hours; it’s a lonely feeling but not necessarily a bad one. i guess because the day feels so new, no one has tainted it yet… (i don’t know how i still allow others dictatorship over my moods) anyway. i get into my rhythm and i have my music piercing through my earlobes and my blood is pumping something like a drug all through my veins and i feel so entirely invulnerable. as though if i continued to run, i would trust my legs to carry me to a place where running away wouldn’t always feel so inevitable. i just feel so utterly at home when i run, so unaware of myself. and then when i am through, i behave as any healthy and virtuous girl ought to and not in some other, abnormal, extraordinary way.* but why does it feel as though there is something inside of me that is only waiting for the chance to come out? my mind is a multi-faceted sieve and i don't always seem to have a choice in what lingers around and what drifts away like dandelion wishes in the summer air. 

photo : pinterest


*from Aldous Huxley's flawless book,  Brave New World

Thursday, May 29, 2014

dally




your sillage lingers
like an aromatic dream
i long to pursue 





{a Haiku inspired by this beautiful human i know, Mirage}   photo: pinterest

               





Tuesday, May 27, 2014

i believe...

               

...that there's just something about a spring evening with a warm breeze seeping through the curtains that feels like magic to me.

...that sometimes all a girl really needs is for someone to listen. 

...that the word 'eloquence' sounds exactly like what it means, and for some strange/nerdy reason, i really like that. 

...that there is something so infinitely transcendent about the relationship a girl shares with her father; it's powerful beyond words. 

...that you should always embrace the kinds of challenges that seem to energize and inspire you.

...that being a fool really only holds any value when it comes to being in love.

...that there is something achingly nostalgic about eating peanut butter by the spoonful. 

...and that lemonade just tastes so much better when you're drinking it in the sun.




Thursday, May 22, 2014

vacillation


you kissed me goodnight like a ghost put to rest
as you walked away with the cold wind of winter 
but i still feel the whisper of your lips on my skin coalesced
and despite the warmth, i shiver; 
a trace of you will forever linger

photo : here

Monday, May 19, 2014

anonymity


i say your  name as if it were a secret, an immense one... your face in my locket, your handwritten notes deep in my pocket, and the smells of you sweetening my nights with love spells. and the whist of spring carries your memory within it's deep breathing winds. it's the calmest antonym of the violent winter i somehow survived without you. the imminence of summer feels much more friendly and the lazy reminds me of a long back road at dusk, with you by my side, singing songs on high, wide-eyed and full of hope. when you would tell me stories and i would tell you mine and our days grew old and familiar like sweet red wine. do you remember? when we were aboard a train of timeless possibility, the sky was infinity and so were we. and now my sun sets to the sound of your name, and my body shivers reliving the nights you made my quiver under the sliver of a waning crescent flame. were our souls just always one octave off? too lost to find one another entirely, like criss-crossed lives, you and i, always too late-- just a tad to the right... to the left, a perfect cleft in time. our love is a storm, a tornado and we live our pseudo lives, apart. but i carry you in my heart. 
and baby, you will always be my untold love story. 


photo : my tumblr.

Friday, May 09, 2014

Renaissance Girl


With the ease of summer looming, I began to feel again. The numbness that had tormented me, slowly dispersed with the rush of warm wind, and in it's place, spring kissed me awake. She enfolded me within the comfort of her gaping arms... gently seeping herself into my soul; replenishing me after an incredibly greedy winter. Like muscle memory, my anatomy impulsively diverted back to feeling as though I was entirely composed of the delicate wisps of a dandelion- just dancing in the breeze, swaying in it's celestial rays of gold. The cloudiness vanished from my view, but ever so leisurely... with a rigorous precision. The slow, methodical departure left me, at first, bewildered... and then impatient. For I had learnt to dwell within the haze for far too many months. A haze in which I now felt naked and exposed without. The gloom had infused me with an angst I was swindled into believing was a friend. And it wasn't until scratching my words had bled me almost dry, until writing deviated from a pleasurable liberation into a tornado, twisting and swirling me throughout it's psychotic cyclone, the aftermath taking me no further away from my self-inflicted agony but rather, placing me within the eye of it. How many times can one survive this kind of storm before instinct dominates? 

That's how it all ended, or began, depending on how you look at it. As if in an absurd twist of fate, the vortex collapsed in upon itself... upon me. And my world stood still. For how long; I do not know. At times, the recollection feels like stretched out minutes to something touching an infinity. Abruptly, I found the crux of my being. The wind was knocked, haphazardly, back into me. Reborn, my newly bloomed eyes were pried open just in time to witness, in sheer admiration, the first splay of the spring flowers, the sky a lingering blue, the air a sweet concoction of magic and iced tea. My legs had become stronger than I could ever recall and each minuscule sinew of my body was screaming for a freedom. 

So I ran. And although I still hadn't quite figured out if I was running to or from, I somehow understood that this was all apart of my story, awaiting an imminent narration. 


photo : my tumblr. 

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

i believe...



...that there is something simply breathtaking about watching flowers come to life.

...that sometimes all a girl really needs is an all-encompassing kind of conversation. although they may not be sitting across from you drinking wine...  despite the distance, they still somehow just get it...

...that there is absolutely nothing in the world like pulling on your skinniest pair of skinnies for them to fit fucking fabulously. 

...and when that delightfullness occurs, suddenly, all those early morning runs and late night yoga sessions are really put into perspective... 

...that organizing and cleaning and throwing useless things away is a simple form of therapy. 

...that hair should be messy, love should be wild, and sex should be aggressive. and you can still be a sensitive woman, just with passion. 

...and that there is something deeply comforting and entirely personal for me about coffee.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

the thing about healing

when my brother died i had this absurd idea in my head that grief was linear-that there was a beginning and a middle and an end.. that's kinda what they tell you. that once this happened, i would feel okay. or once i got over that, everything would be different. i always saw it as a straight line, but what i have come to learn is that it is most certainly not a straight line, it's disjointed as fuck. one day i am acting like a normal human... i manage to pull my shit together quite well, and i'm even able to look around and recognize how beautiful life can be and that those flowers in my garden are actually lovely. but then a song, or a glimpse of something, or sometimes even nothing... sends me straight back into that black hole. one step forward, two back. i learnt the difference between weeping and crying. weeping uses your entire body, and when it's over- it feels as if you legitimately have nothing left in you to hold yourself up.





i've learnt, not-so-quickly, how to withstand the sea of grief. i suddenly understood that i can't fight so hard against the waves and i realized there is no such thing as a fast forward button, that the only way out, is through. to allow every ounce of struggle and discomfort to bubble up so that it can be mended. and the pain... fuck, it can be insanely unbearable... i always wanted to to find ways numb it, evade it or escape from it... and while those things may ease the pain in that moment, what i learnt is the only way to ever find my way to the surface of this tidal wave is to feel it, all of it. no matter how uncomfortable it may be, it must be felt, it must be recognized, and i must always be aware of it, lest i tumble into that vortex of a black abyss. 


and it's messy. it is hours that are all right and then weeks that just aren't. and i wish someone would have told me that... that it's okay... that i will survive this. someday's it will feel impossible and as if burying myself within the depths of darkness would be so much easier than to confront it. because falling is just fucking effortless while confronting is surrending to the commotion of these rebel emotions.. and that's scary shit. but really, on days like that, when i don't know what else on earth to do... i just keep breathing. inhale, exhale... on repeat. 

and i am perfectly certain this applies to grief as a generalization, not exclusively to death. if you have lost someone important to you... you already know what i am saying. and sometimes it just feels good to read something and realize there are others who bear this burden as well. and that grieving is forever. you don't get over this kind of loss but rather, you learn to live with it. you will heal and you will be whole, but you won't ever be the same again. and guess what... i think that's kinda the point.

photos : here

Thursday, April 24, 2014

melancholia


i miss the way those eyes shine like stars on display, like there is never any doubt of their existence, in the same world, under the same sky but way too fucking far away. when i could hear the laughter of your words tempting me to come, all the consciously forgotten thoughts have begun to emerge. and where will you be at three am when all i want is for your voice to drown out the words cluttering my head, when i replay you in my mind and i always find times i left too much unsaid. and now my quiet has found it's own melody, but with the memory of how you were always able to penetrate my language entirely... i'm naked of your song but i know you belong with me in this dark, forever marked with your philosophy, your wild misanthropy, in this twisted fantasy that has filled me deeply and keeps me constantly on my feet and almost always on my toes because who knows me as intensely as you? and now my heartbeat has been replaced by the ticking of a clock and our plot leaves me perched at the edge of my seat, waiting to flee. i miss how we could get high at midnight a thousand miles out of sight, and somehow i could feel the race of your pulse and the caress of your hand on the inside of my thigh, you and i, are a story just begging for a fictitious end and i know my words can sometimes sound indignant but i have found that i am bound by madness and i can only let go of you in malice because i am a stubborn little girl... and i never wanted you to go, didn't you know? 

Sunday, April 20, 2014

"once upon a midnight dreary"...




i perceived i don't need your hand to hold or your words that cut me deep and how they sometimes helped me fall asleep, or did they keep me up, the ones that made my eyes feel as if they were made of stone and i should have known, all you ever wanted was a new distraction- something to take your mind off your last abused abstraction... i was nothing more than a toy you used and destroyed, and i hate what you took away from me, i won't ever be the same, i fell for your fucking game- but what will you use now when you try and gain your sense of self, how will you succumb, in which way will you choose to numb your pain because i'm gone, and you flushed your pills down the drain, who will be your next big thrill? i hope she sees right through your frill, i hope she eats you up and spits you out and leaves you full of fucking doubt, wondering what you did, but who am i kidding, you can't feel remorse, of course... i pity the day you walked in my life and i wish i knew then you held a knife to my back, and yes, you may have thrown me off track, there were times when i felt i couldn't unwind, where everything was dark and even in the daylight, i felt oddly out of sight- no one there to show me the way and carry me through my befuddled dismay, i had to figure it out on my own; i had to sit and ponder and wander and try and piece it all back together... and maybe all i want is to be heard, just for someone to read these words: to know that we all have phases of dark and feeling of being completely lost, but it's within those times, those dimly lit days that have shown me the illusion of my confusion and now i know i can stand on my own, and i hope you know i'll be okay and even when it may seem i despise you, i don't... but that doesn't mean i can't feel marred from your sudden depart and i know you can't possibly see through these rhymes as i try and write it all out and expel every ounce of doubt from my blood... singing how you changed me and sometimes it feels like you just exchanged me and that bothers me to no end for someone else is in your head, in your bed, and now i am nothing more than another bad habit, a problem you were able to overcome and what now; it's on to the next one? but you and i both know the only way to grow is to let it fucking go, although my life will forever be hinted with the smell of you, of all you drew and perhaps that was the moral of our story-to fall down Lewis Carroll's rabbit hole together in a fury; you and i forever tied together at the seams of this fucked up dream within a dream where nothing is as it seems, you feel me baby?



photo : pinterest