Monday, March 2, 2015
I want to whisper you to become my greatest secret
the one I will be longing to spit out with every chance
and if you succumb to this selfish request, by any chance,
you'll be the only secret I will allow my self to tell
to yell on the top of my lungs and be a bragging bitch about it
to show my pride and love, like an immature colorful peacock
wounded by cupid's arrow, bleeding happily.
Perhaps it is cliche, risque, this growing infatuation,
but what if you are the sole incarnation
of that obscure everything I have been dreaming all my life?
i'll dye my heart in happy colours and play its strings to sappy tunes
I'll smile and love all of your artistic disguises
but I'll adore only your face
(I'd rather die in your embrace)
than miss the spectrum of your rainbow.
Shh...it's still a secret, especially from you!
I want to tell you so bad, yet my blushing heart claims it taboo
you'd only brush me off as one out of the many, I guess...
Sunday, March 1, 2015
I saw the picture of a ghost today
it was a memento of a fair and pained soul's deathday
and it might have been a blasphemy the fact
that the face burned me and shook me so
because it looked just like your reflection
and it is so pathetic, that pictures are the only connection
I have with you - would you consider? to be my bitter-
-sweet substitute for my disowned cigarettes?
I'm dying to inhale your breath and keep you in my lungs
and resign my life and all my little moments to your taste.
You can spark up my purposeless decaf and accompany
my gallons of hot and steamy tea; I'll scream my plea
if it'll turn you on and make you say yes.
Pardon my intrusion, I'm taking off my shoes and coming in,
it's just that I have this solid feeling causing my heart friction,
that we can be each other's forever and ideal addiction.
Living under the broad daylight
was something I had missed
but now as I move and am and interact
and trying to act; like my fellow robotic locusts,
(gone, my individuality lusts)
something is amiss
and I just cannot dismiss
the dark and sympathetic lonely nights
that are now devoured by sleep
(the morning's awakening is so steep)
there has to be a semblence of normalcy
it is the pillar of idiocracy
and bloody sweaty paper feeds its locomotive
this era's ulterior motive
gone are my happily dark thoughts,
this new persona has succumbed
to its turn-offs
in order to survive, one must divide
and cacophony of heartbeats
(this must be the ultimate nightmare)
of the clay puppeteer
the scenes behind the eyelids are cut
Jeanne's voices have been shut
keep your eyes open
bloodshot, the contacts must stay on
It's everyday life synthesis
bitter-routine symphony (I can change)
dreams in parenthesis
(but the memory remains)