You’re an artist
And thus, I automatically hate you
We repel each other
I hate your standard of beauty
I hate mine
We created this falsehood
And we can never escape it
You’re fake, feeble, vacant, mediocre, arrogant, callous, pathetic and vile
I love you
If it were up to me, I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t smile. I wouldn’t talk much. I’d be sitting by the beach all day, writing, quenching thirst with juice in the other hand. Bare skinned and in a swimsuit, lounging and dipping into the smelting hot golden sand. Letting my skin bake into the brownest that it could possibly get. If it were up to me, I’d have coconut oil in my hair soaking into each strand hungrily. Squinting my eyes and looking up, I’d watch the movement of the sun all day as it glides across the sky from east to west, or up and down… whatever it is that it does. Time would go as slow as it possibly could go. I’d stare into the face of the distant horizon, thoughtless and unafraid. If it were up to me, I’d have an ardent romance and risk it all. I’d twirl in trance to the staccato echoes of the sea, aimlessly.
All the love I have for you
Like ever growing branches on a tree
Is a wish to be free
There’s a lot of pain, and you slowly die in the process
It’s as if you no longer have control over yourself
And all your molecules; all the pieces of love that make you
diffuse into the ground, as you sink in
I can’t gather you, wrap my arms around you, save you
I myself don’t know who I am
I can only fall apart
And let pieces of my self diffuse apart
Hold your hand
And disappear with you
I don’t know why, I just like you.
Sitting on top, straddling you on the chair, sharing grapes. Caressing oil over your face. I can slowly get drunk off your warm, startling eyes
there’s rush in your veins as I turn into a fragrant flower. This is music, we are so in tune with each other. This is purpose; this ease, this satisfaction, this embrace.
I don’t know why, you just like me.
There’s a bee of love hovering about me right now. And just who knows when this fragrance will wane, but you just can’t not look at me right now.
Here I am, in the red planet. The atmosphere here stings my skin as I sit alone in this arid dust bowl. The sky’s red and it’s making my eyes bleed. My crimped hair’s brittle and it obscures my vision. My throat’s dry and I squirm on the rocky ground in dreams of quenching thirst. My mouth thinks it’s water, but I’m eating dirt. It gets inside my fingernails. It smears across my face. I grab a handful of it and let it squeeze out of my clenched fists. Am I even human anymore? Am I a machine? Am I an empty shell? Am I just dying slowly and awaiting to be filled by your holy water in the palms of my hand?
Release me in the downpour of a summer’s rain.
Let it splash across my face like being roped in the tides of your love.
I think of jittery visions of your powerful arms around my waist from a thousand years ago, and your tender kiss underneath the waterfalls in paradise. I can warp back in time to when the world glowed before my innocent eyes, and you saw it from across the room and then asked me out.
There was a world once where the birds flew over the rainforest, and we made love on the ground after a spell of laughter. There was a time when the sun set and you followed me to the beach, and I saw its beautiful reflection in your striking eyes. Redo the moment when I was pinned against the wall and I believed in your promise of true love murmured near my ears. There are wires deep inside that bond to my brain and it recollects your hidden flesh. It resurrects before my eyes in a way that’s truly holy. If there’s god, I believe in one and it’s in the form of your warm-blooded body. Your body, that of a Greek god, naked and pale stands before me. Is it you, or are you a flickering image prerecorded and absent? I reach out my crooked finger to touch you but it just passes through. My eyes squint and blink sporadically while they shut. Let me believe that I’m not dreaming. Wake me up and tell me that we’re sitting in back of the taxi cab once more near the city shores. The city is so alive and the air is humid and hot, and there’s sweet scent of your warm breath tantalizing over my neck. I reach to cover it. My teeth are chattering. My body is shivering in cold. A wave of sediments blow and deposit over it, and I wonder how long I’ll live like this.