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Literature Text
this is what i call home:
a fiction of security
under an indifferent sky,
loving men who never loved me back
beyond the fringe,
maples grow like weeds,
six feet under
and over your head
and my, how we laughed, but
people are not medicine;
we already said our goodbyes
the summer i dug to china
(i can be every crack in your concrete
battle lines --
if i could just get it out, it will all
be better.)
a fiction of security
under an indifferent sky,
loving men who never loved me back
beyond the fringe,
maples grow like weeds,
six feet under
and over your head
and my, how we laughed, but
people are not medicine;
we already said our goodbyes
the summer i dug to china
(i can be every crack in your concrete
battle lines --
if i could just get it out, it will all
be better.)
Literature
Screaming Under My Breath ...
Screaming Under my Breathlessness…
The unexpected moments of remembrances strangle
I am not that strong anymore …
I miss you - more than him
Literature
Hermetique
To make the Eagle fly
extract Light from the darkness.
Separate a spider from its web,
a butterfly from its sheath.
Know also.
Exact preparation
requires an able spirit of
sweat and labor applied
to cause the bird to fly,
the Mercury to rise sublime.
Value the Work
and the spark in all things.
Literature
Heliolatry
Yesterday i attempted to find the means to express my feelings to you,
to describe the way it feels when your hair curls round your head
like thorns thatching itself upon sleeping beauty's castle,
how when your eyes lock onto mine i wish i could throw the key away.
And your voice is mellifluous,
like birds chirping at sunrise, my day hasn't started until i've heard your call,
and you're the sun;
the world tipping and singing to your every rise and fall-
But despite the million sentiments and more i send to you,
none define the faultless paradigm you are
or my nonsensical rapture towards your spirit,
but there's no need for any explanation
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