blindly convinced that I contain some kind of god-like charm
I still see you through the eyes of a child Dancing in naïveté Hiding in the lowest lows To get to the highest highs Perfumed innocence on the backdrop of adulthood And that particularity in your scent Will always lead me up a staircase In a hallway that’s profusely decorated And I use the wrong combination of letters For, I still see you through the eyes of a child.
i remember as a child cycling around like a pack of cubs filled to brim with the feeling of owning the world throwing rocks at trees for its fruits no matter the season. it all remains the same today apart from the fact that we need to sit down to catch our breaths and our whiskers have had to be trimmed and the feeling of owning the world owns us but we're still knocking on trees which has no fruits to bear.
The stars and I never speak Anymore I've been misled by their lustre They don't deserve to be cajoled. Our tv screen has seen such better dreams But its luminescence doesn't ever subside. And when the stars outside fade The pictures still watch us watching each other. Constance.
Summer means nothing here The calm breeze isn't as soothing as in the West Don't bother yourself with flying Your wings are frail and you're too close to the sun. It's just for lovers Or maybe that's the winter But then again They're sharing coats everywhere Sweating over one another.
I longed to bathe under the grandeur of your light As I dragged the drapes away Knowing that when i'd come back You would illuminate the idea of a better day. Until I realised That this blinding light Was just dressed in empathy And when it started to slow dance and strip for me I ran myself to a familiar place A place built on regret. I shouldn't have dragged those drapes that day.
I’d rather put my faith in open hands than confined in the foundation of two pointing upward toward the ceiling only surpassed by prayers for better days. what’s that on your bedside a gauge that measures your mistakes and your bedroom walls they are open-mouthed they like the taste of blood and when you go to sleep their faith in you it fades. you sleep at the barrel of oppressed acceptance.
in a world with no trees a fountain of fluttering wings erupts and they have coerced me into thinking the land of opportunity is not just a mirage. in flight my taped eyes have started not to withstand the contention and I'm forced to search for a branch to rest upon. just stop and pause breathe deep, light a cigarette. just rest across this stretched gray sky it isn't an option. in a world with no trees you have it easy.
i fill these ashtrays up with prayers of a future that seems to slip ahead as soon as i get close with my hopeful eyes these hymns i chant begin with crackling sounds that cover my spine in despair and I'm left emptying my ashtrays in a wishing well
Time has no frame And its waves are slapping against my thighs And as I try to hold it in between my fingers It all slips away Just a few droplets stay.
And the people I've been Wrestle each other And i feel it I feel the blood come up A cough or two And it's at the back of my throat Wanting to erupt like skin that's made acquaintance with seething water And the people I'll be tomorrow Half with folded hands, start a prayer The rest, with dusty knuckles, hope you buy tickets for the next show.
The thin line between everywhere and nowhere
i cough up blood that spells your name drowning underneath the twinkling shadow it casts and your whispers through this dying cellphone envelop "we're not drowning, you don't have to hold your breath anymore."
In a world that's blind, I lost myself in your comforting eyes.
New visions New versions of you.
and everything in this room feels inconsequential without purpose like a dangling wire in pitch black connected to a source but never reaching an occupant and i forget it's there when the breeze blows in the right direction allowing me to consume your scent it all feels disconnected like something beginning with a conjunction like this thought.
they tell me everything crumbles i shake my head approving I've seen it do so and I've been at the bottom I've felt the riveting quake. if it crumbles this time I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it out of the debris.
And as the rain fell I saw us in the middle of the tiny droplets Not just silhouettes, but in actual skin Suspended in thin air Dangling about, falling clumsily on the syrupy grass And as the rain continued to fall Tiny streams of anxiety left my body With the sky still gray I felt shaded in different shades And your joyous screams came to life Approaching my ear Whispering, “we will love again.” What’s real anymore?
I’ve always been corrupted With safety With corporeal articles With ideas of an imaginary future. Today, all conjoins With a flick of the ember possessed by your hair.