[september prompt]

though i know it was easier to piece it back together
even a broken mess of what used to be
instead of creating a new possibility
but my way was never the easy way
no matter what stood in the way
i had to find a way
i needed to find a way
to break the mold of a way i've hated for so long
i could already hear the echos of the past i was tryna escape
the all too familiar repetition i felt in bad habits
even when my heart started aching
i could remember the throb of the break
from past ways before
the way i didn't find on my own -
merely the way they talked to me
talked me into knowing it all

i hadn't lived my own life - i lived someone else's
it was a mess trying to piece back someone else's faded footsteps
tryna follow too closely
but in reality
the harsher truth in the lost path
the way i can't seem to find
i just wanted to make my own way
to get there
and find a way
somehow to live it
my own life
my own way...

freewrite: mismatched

loving you is like an itch i can't scratch.
and dammit, it's one of those that moves around too.
it's painful sometimes.
frustrating at others times
but amidst all the negative things i can point out about it -
all it comes down to is the fact that it's there;
whether i gave you permission or not
it doesn't seem to matter -
you invade my thoughts
and i swear i feel helpless enough to just surrender.

the mere fact alone makes me feel hopeless.
who wants to feel this way.
who wants to admit these types of things.
who in the world would want to honestly say that
someone's got a hold of their heart
and doesn't even care?
maybe that's why i can say it breaks often.

to be completely honest,
i'm a little tired and emotionally drained
and it's getting to be really heavy on the heart for me.
i know you probably think that
i'm bound to say something real sweet and poetic about you,
but loving you is frustrating.
and we, the living half heartedly
the bruised, but still alive
the painful, yet existing
loving, yet unloved
those of us...that hurt for the mere
presence and absence of mismatched emotions
...we don't listen to love songs the same.

May 2010 prompt freewrite

May: "He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realize." - Oscar Wilde

it was only through words
i dared to live beyond the motions that kept me safe
sane in reality,
my imagination
ran wild
ran crazy
ran insane
in a run-on sentence game
my reality a game of who could play normal
my truth of mind hidden away in seamless hidden meanings
silently trapped behind the words that held so much more substance
and i admitted more through poetry
than i could ever admit to myself through tears
and i'd hope they read closely
read quietly and understood fully
they read secrets behind these meanings
and lives hidden away behind reality.

Inkless Pen - (May 2010 prompt)

He cannot spit,
He cannot emote,
He cannot express,
He cannot write what he really wants to say.
challenged by uncertainty,
disturb by his thoughts,
troubled by his confidence,
pressured by his repetition of common cliche.
an insomniac soul,
a deteriorating health,
a regretful past,
a bothered heart beating in cold grip.
The knee hurts,
The walls don't speak,
The family is strong,
The sun is brighter than last year's trip.
She was a recent smile,
She was the triple eyed,
She was a second time,
She was the first faded image of these four.
it tries to speak,
it wants to relive,
it attempts a scream,
it hopes to achieve more than it asks for.
wondering if they listened
understanding their insecurity
believing they're true
hoping there is more to what's already been said.
They write willingly
They write openly
They write unknowingly
They write this in place because their art is dead.

Inkless Pen pt 2. (Visual)

Because this is the story of my life...
all the troubls that one can endure.
every mitsake we have to le rn from.
we emobdied what we c..mprehenf..
....e see with our e..ys...closd...ed...
our.......a d//.....q..........
lsi......to.. it spe.........for.......
beca.use....the .....scatt.rrer....brain.ed..
he...arrt.....s.........f............fo....
oif........if.............pnot/.................s.......
......di.....................................e..................
......................d......................................
................................................................................................
................................................................
................................
..............a..................





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................................................................
............................................................................x..........
................................as................................


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................................hel..................................
................................................................
.................................................................p................................
................................
................................................................
................................................................me...

forreal this time.

...as if it was yesterday
that I first knew what it felt like

to be loved.

That moment I knew,
that very moment when he left that dining chair in our dimly lit kitchen,
I immediately felt that emptiness inside,
the kind of feeling that makes you feel like nothing is complete

without the one you love.

I knew then immediately that when I first laid eyes on that very imprint he left,
the way our chair covers were now slightly disproportionate from when he got up
and when I felt his hand touched my shoulders
and the way my shoulders welcomed his touch

I felt complete.

That I knew then as I embraced his simple yet meaningful touch
that he was mine.
That smile that pierced the dim light of the kitchen,
that particular smile that smothered the room with warmth
on that one cold night of December,
I could feel then that he would be mine

forever.

Because it wasn't like any other.
This wasn't your "let's make love" smile, this was the
"let's make life, love and stress happen.
Let's live every unhappy moment together
and make it love."
And I was confident since then to say that

I was in love.

maps

…If i were to conceal my yearning to tell you..


That concept,
revokes what destiny emancipated between us.

We are.

In cosmologic language revolved around eachother
Just to balance the universe.

I envisioned histories prescribed in evolved canvases, towering so you can only look up to them.

Are we…

What envokes simple epiphany.

Manifesting time and place as our slate to encrypting fragments of scattered passions,
precisely placed at turning points as incentives to initiate inspiration.

Check.
You, assimilate words to control…
so each has every fine tangible detail.
Perfectly cut into meaningful combinations to express illumination of your speech.

remember, the penetration of your potenial posseses an unconditional promise

inevitable happiness
that endures proclamations of false beliefs.

And I vow to unlock the chaos behind your lips. So this embrace of your being holds justice to what anyone could define in you.
I’m trying subsequently to handle with care the last remnants fossilised in our plateau.
Each crumbling day,
each treasure taken away.
The imprints of our shadows flock and hold onto fading memories, hoping the two of us will meet again in the next lifetime.
Or just right now..

Now just make it right in the methods foretold in our translucent vivid symphonies,
… so dreams could be jealous of realitys’ depiction.
And we can continue to conspire ways to find eachothers sentimental value hiding within.

Its there.

41910

Do u hear me whisper at night under your breath as you continue your cypher and cycle?
Have u felt me linger under the deep sunrise as I open my eyes
And our hands touch and I thank you?
Do you feel scared in the rain for the change
Or is it warm and cooling? Is it Encouraging?
Do you bask in your questions or dread them or let yourself carry them out and unpack them
Are they treasures to you like they are to me
Is it gold or emerald or diamonds or ruby
Are you lovely or loving
Fleeting or perpetual
Perplexed or perfect
absolute or for the world to share?
Can I make you both?
Can you make me whole?

unfinished.

even though it's over
i hope you remember all the memories better than me
and i wish you'd believe me a little harder in remembrance
i hope you kept all the notes
heard the truth in between all the moments i had to do what i had to do
and how much i wish reality would've looked prettier
just for you and me
even though it's over
i hope you remember all the good times
i hope you remember all the memories
and please remember those better
and more
than you remember me.

aeia heights

like the clouds in the cerulean ocean above
the simple gust of yr whisper moves me miles.
when you trace my lifelines with the tips of yr digits
i feel the luster of yr lips break into a smile

i lust for wasting hours
climbing the lustrous ladder of yr lumbar
so i can fall from grace
and climb yr feminine heaven again

because your aura is brilliant like flora
flooring me leafing me wanting more of
properties previously possessed solely by goddesses

Artemis had sent you here to slay me
to curb my pride and remind me of my mortality.
and as i lie here with her Scorpio

i am the most vulnerable
but eagerly anticipate yr sting.

bon appétit

crack two
drop em in the mug
add a little cream, we straight
pour the medley in the pan
dance along to the sizzle
pop the top and drizzle a little
from the tip of the tapatio bottle
scrambling admirably
the white turns yellow
and the yellow matches
the color of my skin
salt and pepper
show up fashionably late
but dash just the same
the medley looks like
my brain on drugs now

but it tastes so fucking good.

just another freewrite

Inspiration is so hard to come by

or so the little girl wept

explained that there's nothing in this world except corruption and negative connects

she'll connect poverty to war and connect violence into drug use

so I told her that inspiration isn't always positive

its up to the writer to portray it as positive

by all means be inspired by the ugliest things

because in reality, how inspiring really is a diamond ring

its not

I told her that corruption can be a love song and to bridge gaps between the connection of negative and positive

see like a battery you need both to work

so i'll connect poverty to humanity and connect drug use into well shit

drug use takes you beyond your average thought

and who ever said that thinking outside the box was ever a bad thing

im just saying

inspiration is not hard to come by

inspiration just a noun

a person place thing or idea

now tell me that ain't every where