the hurting history

//read in caption//

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I was love
and I was killed
in the fury of egoes
clashing from under surface
of the red ocean,
sea green on the top
with fishes and snakes floating
in the fire,
and the cool elixir.

I was love
and I was killed
in a cemetry of rising dead memories,
battling the swords of
pushed back,
deprived
and dipped into dead
passion.

I was love
and I was killed
by the eyes of evil hearts,
of whom minds were narrow
streets with rigid houses
and gutters overflowing.

-p r i y a

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i enter in my future
tip toeing through the back door
stealing glances with my eyes
looking at a crossword
of relationships and my dreams
that refuse to overlap.

i look for words
and find only fiction books
with happy endings,
and anthologies of my past.
i look through it puzzled
and follow the missing pages
through an enlightened path
into a dark mansion,
of walls full of pages
and pictures of scars,
songs of failures
and journals of anxiety.

i look through it stunned,
at my future,
and my past designing it.

-p r i y a

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(Part 1)

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•On stairs,
spirals and
world•

-p r i y a

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•On fall and love•

-p r i y a

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I look at death standing before me,
And the pinned world glowing on the wall.
The little stick figures of a girl
pointing to dreams of places,
My disease blinds to death wishes.

I have books,
Lining up the walls,
Making love to my heart
And putting in words,
The experiences I'll never have
The snow in the dark woods,
And a campfire hiding darkness with it's stories,
The folk songs of lost cultures
And hills with valleys full of life.

I look at death standing before me,
And cry the remaining tears,
Before getting washed into an ocean.

-p r i y a

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