The Poet

I dance like broken wings who forget themselves in the night. It is my only curse that I despise you.

To say too much. To crumble. Is it a line I cannot blur? Soft and broken things we haul around. Reminding me of somebody I knew. It rests inside your voice.

I hate to love my golden cloak. An unending hatred of love. This love of self. Of sapphire and caramel. A mirror and eyes whisper.

We forgot our language. It speaks in dreams. The body detaches from itself. I shudder in dusk. I forgot how to speak. This verse. This tongue.

Inside the heart I find wounds. Wounds I am unable to heal. With this loss of self.

Fall in Love Fall hard with shattered wings and feel it pulse through your body

I may hurt now but not forever Feel her now and then release her

We fall in lust. We die here. Love is the dream. One self remains.

How short this existence is. I deceive myself. I became human. We all did. From innocence to sin. I yearn to be unpolluted again. We watch each other. Their souls in their eyes.

It is labeled an obsession. I do not wish to live inside myself. Instead, my soul might wander like a ghost, untethered with grace. Translucent and empty. Who is to say who is the ghost? I wear the cloak. I drown. I smile. I pretend.

To love. For a love that simmers into dormancy. A deep slumber and mechanical lifestyle. Everything forgets itself at the door. Left in puddles for dreamlike ideas within unattainable nostalgia. Nothing comes to the door anymore. We forget ourselves.

I sometimes wonder if I will face myself. To look in the eyes. I miss how it was. Not the beginning moments but in the progression of self. How we diminished ourselves to become one. How every stranger was my soulmate. How now writing this, I understand I came here to escape but all remains…

How I fantasize about empty golden sunsets and eyes. I see the eyes of each person I yearn for as they dance along the ancient walls. Like little prayers or little pupils slipped between cracks. Always watching us. Always watching the lips. As they ask for forgiveness.

Superiority of possession To compensate for beauty. Danger in lying Dangerous beauty Beauty who lies

This October hurts of ash and bleeding sun The veil I cast upon myself makes it difficult to breathe without the crumble

I carry the ink which carries me to unknown lands. And while I condemn violence, I shot a gun. Five bullets, missed him. It is a dangerous concept, this pedestal. The height, and then the sinking. With nobody to unravel you. Save the blue angels who always watch.

I met two in the mirror One was the me I know but she was a ghost She looked beyond me as I watched her and realized she is my body and I am her soul

Night removes something from me. She gives but steals too much. When I become one with the night, and whilst I stare inside the moon, it feels like staring into you. Do you watch her too?

I am not so abstract. I wear distinct personas for a night like I wear this smile. Pretending to be anybody else. To forget the child within me.

I am not like the wind. I am not made of spirits, the angels. I know nothing. Your eyes are the eyes of a cat. Eyes make me soft. They bear a knowingness.