I often notice that night Is right time for one to fight with oneself
You are naked with brittle bones And the heart floats, like stone Upon the impalpable air, Buried in your body With a weight, as you wait, For the world to surrender To bow down as you beg For the light to be shined in your eyes For water to be passed through your lips: A concrete kiss Of traffic light love And 9 to 5 passion So that you may be seen Laughing, smiling, walking, talking Along the chorus of the human hummus
The room is a soap bubble Ready to erupt They watch me as I speak A monologue I oar on speechless sunshine A mute morning Born out of Borrowed solace and forced silence Like a wall with paintings Having no need to be owned To be entombed or embalmed With stories other than my own Yet unable to Deny the desire Of loving the smell of lit matchsticks While afraid of its fire
Men must not talk of their mental health
I cut my photograph with scissors The outline cherry red From the bleeding background For it hurts to be left alone Even in the past It dismembers the delusion My silhouette without shape A broken geometry Held together by tape Of a world within with a world without Snow sealed Half peeled Body bagged Soul killed
Most of us mimic The same mistake And get better with time At convincing oneself That mistakes were truly mistake And they happen Around Gravity’s girth Like a natural law for unnatural things
I too mimic Practice and perfect The moment of my death The last words That final thought Fear, Anxiety, Regret and Fate Should I go closing my eyes Or will the irony of the effort suffice?
03:00 AM …Fragments fill me And I ramble unheard Part-time prophecies Those cancer of choices Growing—like an echo fades Quieter and quieter Thus, that closer to death Fragments—crawling To heal age old wounds Once festered, now turned to fountains But will those ever ebb Once the path has been found To let go, never to return In the tombs underground The question alas, is one of consequence More than the conscience
11:00 AM Most of my mornings Are straight lines drawn one after another An exercise in forgetting myself In the labyrinth of memories Same thoughts, same turns Falling like Tetris Deriving and dissolving My life in daily dogma The dithyramb At once beautiful and grotesque In simplicity and anonymity Of existence
06:00 PM Often I dream of my nakedness Knowing, I am never truly bare For I may close my eyes But my skin stays aware Of other eyes on me Knives that can see Hear and speak Bury and seek Desires and disasters Broken laughter thus cast out in plaster On being a servant with no master But only the sense of subjugation Builds as arthritis in my knees I claim no consensus with my shadow And this ocean has no keys So my fears, they appear Upon waves not truly mine Thus I plead the fifth amendment For forging my own sign
02:59 AM On numb days and sensitive nights The fear of fight and feeling of flight Is what I must wholly wear When I am made to appear For a jagged stone set soft in satin Is as rare as writing latin To make the pieces fall into place And make the mosaic world force a face Something I could draw In my dreams Coloured black Like silent screams Mimicking the wall clock as it kills Every hour as eternity heals So the balance—it never breaks And the circle evens the stakes And the empty is once again made whole New patches for an old, embroidered soul Just like the hour hand, I now see Beginning again at three…
