POETRY & ARTWORK

body language: decoded

the facial betrayal of fondness

gets the best of an accidental feeling

teaches taste and too many kisses

on bare creases

how cracking flesh, smooth makes

skin be balmed by touching

the tenderness of

my little world-winder

pretend to - either way -

care and not

for anyone at all

and me

so much for forgetfulness - 

at the end of this process

minds molded together telling secrets hinted

by a twich; snarl,

wrinkled nose with a full heart

trying to empty unwanted adoration

through a mouth that twists with regret

surfacing

through the most basic and extreme notions of human existence, it is with bittersweet pleasure that i can finally say i’ve experienced all that i envied to experience as a child. i was naive to value the kind of pains endured in adulthood. or maybe i was too wise for my age, wise enough to value the hardship i would later find - for as a child i knew that the heart was worth baring. Even with all its sadness, as i witnessed in the eyes of adults, i knew then that it was meant to break as well as swell for others. but in action; in use, the adult heart will give question to its purpose and ask itself: “is it worth the pain, to love?” this is the most challenging upheaval, for the challenge itself must be taken on faith. That when the heavy climb up this mysterious hill, the hardship of the trek will pay off. Because we, as creatures, fear the unknown. we refuse the work unless there is absolute reimbursement of equal or greater exchange. and even though we know deep down, we have to learn to accept that we have no control. we have no control.

Down and Out

pain. emotional. detrimental and awesome - the inerrant burden of living in the confines of one’s own mind for a lifetime has been pulling down every ounce of confidence within; crushing every good-natured joy that a heart has felt out of the simplicity of feeling - and every feeling of modest pride becomes fleeting - so much so that one’s own character ceases to ever be good enough. the insatiable intangible.

i think i’ve got 3 more poems left in me for this new release i’m about to set free. shame i’m falling down feeling i’ve got nothing left - but it’ll come because even though i feel long dead i’m still kicking, god willing. i’m reaching deep for this one though - trying my best to claw my way up and find a fistful of strength to exist in the waking world again - and endure with the constant knowledge of the perseverance we, as a species, can present. and if i’ve still got a thread of faith left in humankind, i cannot go about with the thought that i’m a hopeless case.