i write like a five year old.as we were driving, a satellite sent me urgent messages to be a home for you. they were hidden in commercials for new houses. the messages said they needed to be sold now now now and filled with people eating and loving and sleeping and leaving it and coming back. everyone needs a home. i turned off my radio because i don't want you to be reminded of what you don't have.it was quiet then. i liked the silence, because i can listen to you breathing. if we were silent long enough, i can imagine your warm breath filling up the car, mixing with mine, until what was inside of me could be inside of you. i think you would find that creepy, so i promise myself never to tell you. you hate silence, and a wave of irritation crossed your face. it is fascinating. i almost hit a car, watching.watching you.i parked and we walked. i walk too fast for most people, and it's annoying because i don't slow down. i expect others to speed up to my pace, or risk becoming a blur in the past. you are not like
i am being empty i am point byou are likea communications towerdirecting signals across an oceanto radio receivers on the other side. andyou are beautiful.there are two kinds of people in this world:people like you andpeople like me.you are like two grammes ofsodium nitrate in my bloodstream.so small and so subtlein terms of volume,but nevertheless killing me.
this is the endwe stood still and watched the earth rush towards us.the train tracks looked like a ladder,ever star a step. life stole so much.every passing moment greeted by another. fluidand constant motion, escaping from our grasp.stay close, and we are time ticking. we are passion. for once,we are not afraid.what for, you asked. why anything.your eyelashes spoke symphonies, systematic and it sent me shivering.how could i be so hollow and so full? i am nothing that you are.i've seen many dusks and few dawns.there are mountains i hate and birds i envyand stones i throw. i wish for morehands to hold. i only love one thing thatcan't contain me or i contain it. i feel electricityin palms and fingertips, and it's pulsing. it's brilliant. it's killing me.my breath is stale. i am lost,but in the darkness you felt familiarand i just want you to hold me for a while.the train will swallow us, whole,if we're lucky. look deep into the blindinglight and step forward. this is ourlast breat
when you paintI am fightingto be a building burning to the ground.you are a lover. you are my lover.you have cans of gasoline.you have matches.you have no causeand no pity.I am alight.
obsessionsstone manyou don't look me in the eyes anymore.and sometimesI really wish you did."come alive (I want to be someoneyou could live for. I want to beyour reason.) move.anything, please. just once,just for me."(I carved you to besomething beautifuland I can destroy you into something better.with a hammer in a heavy hand,you'll be in pieces scattered aroundand I'll never be alone again.)stone manI made you a stone heart.and stillyou can'tlove me.
directionas life grows coldI head for distance.wandering dusksettles on my shoulders,searching for it's beginningand my end.I'm so tired. I needyour warmth.(some nightsI sketch your handsto remember the lightfor a whileeverything is good.)
make new friends, keep the oldI have many friends,and they are lonely.They like alcoholand cigarettesand pills and powder and fuckingand they don't like being toldwhat not to do.they are poorthey are nicethey have each otherand that's enough(until they need more.) they say I'll be an alcoholic.they say I'll become a chain smoker.they say I'll live in a shitty apartmentand all I will do is write.(I ask them when the fuckapathy became an emotion. they don'thave an answerfor that one.)I say we all die eventuallyand being a writer is terribly cliché wayto do just that.They ask me for more money.I give it to them, usually. I don't care.I don't need lonely friendsbut they need me.
spaceI sank.the worldlooks betterdown here.empty. dark.quiet.my ghosts can'tfind me.this is my placemine alone.(until the day I need to breathe.I hopeI neverdo.)
soundwavesradio towerscounting hoursfor every static lettertransmitterand make-shiftladderlike fingersflying downspinesrealignedlike thoughtsstumblinglike watches andwindowstumblingand electric timetickingrhyming and lying(I lied) tied,side by sideby myself.
when i rise i'll rise above youhe left me witha heart of ashand a soulpraying to bereborn -"this timemake mesomethinganythingless fragile"
GoneGoing far awayObserving the road aheadNever considering going backEnding another chapter of my story
For But a Blinkthere is little grey leftin a sky going white we are too soon to win the struggle for memory, history far too early-on to be trusted see me through me you us we found everything and lost it in the hot blurry state shift of the ember we pretended we weren'ta burning window closes and this brief mess of man is crystallized for but a blink in the snap and crash of its cr
ways we constellate/a. dictitious/iam well-woven.iam a spellthat does not releaseand never tells.these constructionsi allow,and betterawakento speak in hearttonesand hymnbeatson rugged pavements.ihave builtart./b.beautine/this body hasforgotten its infinitebeatings, denieditself the luxuryof acceptancethis body hasremembered its lovers'last names, phone numbers,birthmarks and kindnessthe only cruelty this vessel knowsis from its middlesi have riddled myself intowarmth/c.capabuilt/these handsare imbuedwith patient dynamismand ichorthat the goddessessavorthey have movedmountain rangesand hoisted dark seasoverhead,then returned themdeftlysuch instruments deserve morethan my doubtsihave cloudedthe veins tenacious/d.aitbaar/i allowed thesehands to hold me.i have yet to feellike lessthan a Dalidreammy little ashesare coming closethe Gangeslost its murkto me; i carryremainsi house brokennesstill it is perfectedkintsugi
MemoriesI would spill gasolineOn my memoriesAnd set them on fireIf it didn't implyMelting the outlinesOf my beingSpreading the atomsInto nothingnessAnd losing trackOf my existenceCrafted fromMoments
Porcelain DollHello,little porcelain doll.It's terrible to see you again.It's the two of ushere in this dark roomStop analyzing me.I'm looking at your flaws tooIf I were to reach outand touch your smooth surfacewould you feel warmto me?Oh little porcelain doll,trapped in a glass boxforced to watch the worldpass you by; never sparing youa glanceThere are cracks trailingup and downyour arms and thighsWhy are you breakingyourself again?I would help to piece youback together butyou would ratherfall apart.Silly little porcelain dollCan't you see I'm damaged too?It's just the two of ushere in this lonesome room,I've got timeour relationship should improveIf I were to reach outand offer you my handwould you returnto me?My dear porcelain doll,we are far from perfectbut life and beautyis something we want to learn about.If I were to love youas you love methen do I have a chance?If I broke the glassand set you freewould you be the betterhalf of me>(though I'd r
These Thoughts Will Kill MePremièreWhat is it likeIn the middle of the ocean, babe?Do you think of meAs much as I think of you?Do you miss the fragranceOf my skinLike I miss yours?Do you crave my lipsAs I crave yours?Do you want me by your sideLightly tracing my fingersOver your delicate faceAnd you kissing my fingersEach time they pass your beautiful lips?DeuxièmeThe first little kickAnd the giggles that come afterNurturing a bodyThat isn’t my ownThe little fingers that willWrap themselves around my giant oneThe sleepless nights full ofFussing and cryingThe little pitter patter of tiny feetRunning across the wooden floorThe complete adoration in your eyesAs you take your first steps towards meAnd shout “Mommy!” as I scoop you upAnd nuzzle your little body into mineTroisièmeA family traditionEvery generationAt least one personDies from their depressionWill I be the one to dieIn my generation?QuatrièmePerfection eats away at everyone
misconceptionsand as he paces the cliffs of my ribs with hisfingers and contemplates jumping off,i leave his bruises of purple milky waysat home on my skinand push us both over theedge-hold me tighter, cause i'd rather be a bag of bleeding veinsthan nothing at all
ConflateI don’t believe in beliefs;I believe in cycles insteadto toss and turn into wisdom,live and learn from, until then:everything is a learning experienceand comes with a subtext thatif I can get through this,it won’t be forever.When the lyrics of my favorite songswon’t let me get some dream sleepI feel comfortable with the beatsin my head syncopating my heartthat someone might compliment,I like your rhythm.When the beat drops,And when it drops off,I will listen for the melodyof the memory, rememberingit doesn’t matter to me if otherscan hear the happiness.It’s all inside me andI’ll still be me withoutoutward music.I believe in cyclical beliefs;like turning a key opensthe lock to the music box,feeling a cynical relief.The swirl of melodiesbrings my back straightand builds me up….To build my way, on my own.Belief cycles helping me alongGive comfort in an unsteady future.
catching upI'm spent andsitting. broke and bleeding.within my memories,your hands arecaught.I can't forgetwhat time forgot.