crickets,
their cultish hums
a night so young,
like a heartbeat,
its potential thrums
i hear the call
of the midnight sun
just one more night
please,
let me run,
away from the future,
that smoking gun.
Tag: poetic
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so-called reality met its finality when you broke the chains of causality — “what a malady,” he said madly, “to obey rationality and its suffocating apathy, when actually to live happily is to discard what’s known factually and to let your heart lead — passionately.”
a life of confinement needs a moment of atonement — out of character, the 4th wall broken. a flash, a bolt, the cell door open. “Go– run,” the fates have spoken. the mind electrified, forever awoken.
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Life, a deck of cards,
how will you play them?
Life, three balls of yarn,
how will you weave them?
Do you leave the strings
to the Fates
thrice three?
to passively say,
“do what thou wilt
unto me,”
or are you an anomaly,
fate’s threads
made serpentine–
it delights the sisters
when the strings
give a push,
and wrangle free —
don’t be easily woven.
sentience
is sovereignty.
-
Love Mercury,
Let us weave our personal myth:
What is a life,
If not mythologized?
Epic tales spun
from threads of mundanity,
Fairy castles built
from bricks of banality —
Gaze of Midas! one touch,
symphonies sprout in technicolor
from muddy monochrome monotony—
Observation, breath of life,
Color returning to your cheeks—
What is life
but a series of strings,
waiting for deft hands,
nimble fingers?
And love: the greatest weaver of them all!
before my thread
converged with yours
I felt you,
on the way the wind blew on my face,
the way my first sip of water tasted—
I knew something was different,
I felt you.
-
never knew what it meant
to live
till i met the one for whom
i would die
how funny.
-
the touch of fate
is a strange thing:
she grazes your lover
with the tip of her finger
then suddenly:
she is sand
through your arms,
dust in the wind.
yet your lover’s ivy
does not leave too–
no, it sprawls
through the chambers
of your heart and mind
the ones you thought
were well and truly locked.
love, love, love:
its illusion is this:
seeing eternity,
where your love
is a heart drawn,
initials enclosed,
by the sea shore
with your fingertip
in the sand.
One wave:
all it takes.
but i will fall
for this ruse
every time.
i will fall
eagerly.
yea.
i will fall.
-
i’ve longed for so long,
i yearn to not yearn.
what is love:
does it need
to be earned?
again i ask:
when will it be
my turn?
…
Those old thoughts
came knocking on my door tonight.
Unwelcome houseguests.
They checked every window,
They checked my back door.
I don’t know if I locked up well enough.
I don’t think they entered,
but I heard them.
They shouted, I heard them.
From outside, banging on the door
I put all my weight against the door
praying they wouldn’t enter.
They didn’t, they didn’t,
but by God,
I almost let them in.
By God,
they almost
got in my head.
A trembling hand,
reached—
I don’t think faith
is a good feeling.
No, sometimes it’s your only option,
there’s a certain desperation in faith
a certain desperation-like taste.
sometimes faith
has nothing to do with the future.
Sometimes, faith has
everything
to do with the past.
I’ve been here before.
I made it out before.
They can stay at the door.
My time will come,
of that, I’m sure.
no, faith,
like love,
it is a choice.
sometimes
a hard one.
-
What is it?
It’s the same old story:
longing, and yearning.
I want someone’s breath tracing my collarbone,
I want to be the reason someone feels safe.
Something human.
That’s all.
-
these love poems
make me a fool—
supposedly.
you, the scientist
you don a white coat
but that laboratory:
isn’t it cold?
you,
your controls—
me,
no choice
but to let go.
who is the fool?
this love of ours—
its flame
burns textbooks.
i’ll set fire to every library.
for without this love:
there’s no knowing.
yeah, without this love
i know nothing.
no love, no truth—
know love, know truth.
-
You caught me staring
lost in your eyes—
you asked me what I was doing.
“Stargazing”—
it was all I could muster.
It’s like you plucked the stars from the heavens,
and put them in your eyes:
what is this magic you do?
You are the night sky.
It’s like you stole the Sun,
and put it in your heart:
what is this magic of yours?
Blazing. You bring me to life.
It’s like you’re the universe,
You draw me into orbit—
What a wonderful dance this is.
You tell me,
“I want to see the world”—
but I already do.
We could travel the globe,
There’s nothing worth seeing
if it’s not with you.
Stargazing,
one of our favorite pastimes.
But honey, that night sky
has nothing
on your eyes.
Brilliant. You bring me alive.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 