03/20/17 //

If I changed my mind

for those around

would my body become

whole and

ready for this command?

 

I should not rhyme with

comedy and such

and my phone should be

silenced, for its sounds

haunt my thoughts.

 

Does loneliness kill or does

my mind wander in apathy?

Circling questions enrage my

mind

but I fear for

the rocks I throw.

Paper is rough underneath

my pencil’s dreams.

-From, Daws.

 

 

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the youngest wish of my brother.

My brother once told me that if I whistled at the northern lights

they would take my soul away

I’ve contemplated,

I’m the evening of dark times.

To whistle so loudly that the world would stop to

Hear the sound of soullessness.

Green and blue are cyan to my eyes. No matter the stars

Surrounding the movement of shadows.

Your heart reaches for stars and the sun blocks out the

clouds

Even though, after time, it’s

a broken soul surrounded by blue. And the shades of red

affect you.

Dancing in the dark gets old,

For I am weak too.

The green tiles of sun abruptly

Shine. Effortless in pain and numb again.

To your wishes

Of soullessness. And

also mine.

*featured image The Starry Night by Van Gough*

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pray FOR solitude AND blue

I’m not scared of vitriol 
                                    or the pleasure in my name. 

You pray (for me) in coincidence 

                                     through your father’s religious concerns.

I am gone– so is (she)

insanity of chess pieces. Stolen ashes through 

memories. Can you see my longing 

for fear. My languages (pray) for 

solitude and society. Writing in pen (so I)

can only make artistic mistakes. 

Is that an experience? Or 

irony in simplicity? I write (on) a slant 

                                                                 in blue 

                                                                 but, 

                                                                 (I am blue)–

I’ve coloured my stone bruises, too.

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this is not home.

I pray for a time when I’m

going to die. Unfeasible

I’m sure. One can try.

My polymer sweatshirt is

warm through the dye.

My time on the moon for broken lies

is cut at the strings so it

can fly high.

University dreams of students

in mind. Broken but here

for those in sight.

In a wasteland of deer

and colours of fields.

No end nigh, one can only hope

for the happiness that may never come.

Though, it will try. Identity is questioned

in this mind of minds. But

through this loneliness and

forward lives,

you may cry at the sight

of my darkening eyes.

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My Room

Is she lonely too?

Or is my callousness too broken

for you?

She never brought me through love 

and all of this. Rhyming in dark sunlight 

All alone 

                 and alone 

                                     beside her eyes 
I try to refrain when the door unlocks my room 
but incredulous keys 

reaches through and leaves me again.

All I want is to leave. 

Acting has its own appeal 

and it rings off the tounge like time on the moon.
I don’t mind, your 

shaking lies 

                       and torrential hate.

Rain on my day when friendly fades. 

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