I think everything i say now is just my grief singing./ Somehow time has
turned into a reckless bully that only laughs in my face.
There is a longing that doesn't let me say its name.
It is mostly a riot smeared at the back of my
throat; /it burns, but it passes.
And the next morning is merely a clock
with no hands - with wait written all over it./ I would wait if i could.
I would wait if i knew how to.
I want to forget but i am here. I want to run but i am here./
but where else is there to go?/ Don't you know a heart that turns its back
on you is a mother with blood on her hands.
What good are these memories you speak of? / What are remains if not another dead thing?/
Don't you know a body that remembers too much
becomes a man digging his own grave. / I would run if i could.
I would run if i knew what I'm running from.
Maybe I've learnt to yearn for things/
like a child that yearns for a hand that promises to stay./ But how long
must a wish remain nameless?
/I would name it if i could.
I would name it if you asked.
/BLUR/-
you see, i could have been the tears in a mother's eyes./ but i wanted to be forgotten./ to be a fever dream, that only visits once a month./ to reminisce what was never gone. /
these last few evenings, / i have been thinking of places to hide / when grief calls me by my lost name./ i only ever wanted to be anything but nameless./
i think maybe,
there is a way to forget./ what is remembrance, if not a dead flower
anyway?
lately your words run through me
like a turquoise river through a vacant city; / reckless and unheard.
it is like this: / every now and then,
i run into the night again / as if running into broken teeth back in my mouth. /
a dead end. and blood filled words.
you see, i chose to be forgotten / as if remembrance is anything but a curse./
as if holding on is anything but a hollow ocean.
/Remembrance/-
this candle in my hand is all we've ever known to be.
the light around - melting.
the light within - not mine to keep.
look how this moment weeps into our eyes.
how this angry heat is our only visitor.
in my country,
a woman is a woman until justice forgets her name.
a voice is a voice until it turns into muffled cries on the radio.
a heart is a heart until it becomes a stone to be hammered upon.
after, it is a graveyard
turned battleground turned a
memory.
in other words,
i am both:
the sword that burns
and the fire that regrets.
the tired sea
and the restless bird.
/armour/-
this awful silence/ it holds me by my wrists./ the air turning into a hundred needles.
in this age, everyone is a sinner./ every heart on the street/ rid of a heartbeat./ the rain is a memoir of all the tears we haven't shed./ the sunlight: a golden mirage.
your voice is almost like tomorrow. / a tomorrow that i dread/ a tomorrow i long for. / an ocean is deep only as long as it drowns. / a home is a home only until everything looks like a coffin. / the floor of this room, is nothing but your tears solidified./ the walls stained with the nights yet to pass.
how long until your gaze turns into a burning village./ how long until we escape. / you call my name/ and suddenly i live another year.
i discard forgiveness like a painting rid of its colour. / my rage is not mine anymore/ it is a howl i no longer want to home. /
you call my name/ and another lifetime burns.
in this age, everyone is a sinner. / how long until we become holy?-
what do i do to take my name back from you?
to build a home other than a shameless wreck
hiding under a blanket of rainbow florets.
this is a sky full of tortured light.
light that shivers. scatters. howls.
what do i do with the suns you owe me?
how long do i carry this
heat of a galaxy full of fallen stars,
except they refuse to be broken.
look for me in the legacies i crush under my feet.
call me scream, call me silence;
and i'll meet you at the voiceless sea.-
how unfortunate -
the way the moon shys away from you,
leaves you
a nameless night every now and then.
i see you sitting away your hours,
flowers in your bruised hands,
summerstars nowhere to be seen.
every cloud i see,
runs away from the sky.
i see your eyes
and a fire burns deep inside me,
trying to escape itself;
a flame that doesn't know its home.
tell me about the emptiness someday soon
and i will tell you
how we are both full of nothing.-
maybe sometime soon
i'll find something to call alive again.
a dream, a haunting memory,
a life to call mine.
lately
i think of me
and i think of death.
i think of you
and live all over again.
one of these days
i'll look into my eyes in the mirror
for the first time in a while,
recall what's mine
and what's leaving;
make a list, and cross my own name twice.
someone told me
time is an old blanket
ripped off from both ends.
warm yourself as long as the threads
don't fall apart.
tonight,
i think,
i'll sew a new home again.-
lately i find myself beneath
piles of laughter stripped of a sound,
beneath a sky of unshielded eyes.
some days i wake up,
pour a few dreams together
and make my own sea.
other days
there is nothing to my name
than a barren sky.
"how long has it been again?"
you count on your fingers,
but the truth is
you don't remember.
"7 weeks" you say.
but the truth is
time has not passed at all.
i will try again soon
to remember what it's like to revolt.
i will try again soon
to not revolt at all.
maybe one of these days
you'll call me your sun,
and i'll tell you:
i'm tired of burning.-
The Boat
I remember you from the water that
swallowed me whole.
From the tears that sit on this couch,
refusing to leave. like an uninvited
guest, taking the last of my smiles.
I name you blossom and you wither away.
Reminds me of the night spent on the
rooftop,
stars forgetting how to shine.
I remember you from the boat that
refused to sink.
From the sunshine that lied.
Do you remember it way I do?
Waiting for the storm to hit,
and one of us constantly trying to swim away.-
-life is a delicate treasure. a fleeting truth. a sea
for those who know how to swim; a well for those who do not.
a thread that stays tangled.
a puzzle with the middle piece missing. a face
with no face. a raindrop as heavy as the sky that
holds it. a beginning leading to the end.
-death is a promised thief. a flower that always
blooms. a forbidden gift. the wind that takes
all the doors of the house with it. the weapon
that leaves you defenseless. a rose with
the sharpest thorns. the kite that never falls.
an end, synonymous with the beginning.
●life and death●-