act.because we aren't hereto recount current eventsinternalize celebrity gossippresent statisticsrecite pledgesand lyricsand be sickas the monsterswe see dailyit's all aboutsomeplace higherand I catch glimpsesin graffiti dripping down bridgesand I hear it whisperinside tremblingharmonica solosand I feel itbouncing off the bodiesof dancersand I witnessit tremblein the voicesof poetsand it takes me therebut I fall back downto politicians' promisesand the shine of consumerismand the flashes of fleshwe call advertisementand the culturethat promises methat a tight shirtis an invitationand that a young black manis a thugand that a young white manis still a boyand that one couple's loveis beautifuland one is up for debateand that immigrantsare numbers and not peoplebut there is hopeit is in the streetsshouting "we can't breathe"and it is behind computer screensexposing and educatingand it is new parentstelling the next generation of boysthat the ne
'Til I Crack.You're throwing rocks ata glass tower; it's onlya matter of time.
It's like this, see?All the timenature is composingand every midnightis a crumpled pageand every deathis a cross outand every babyis still-drying inkand someday my skinwill be tomorrow's sundriesand today I am standingon doe-eyed loverswith dandelion-stained kneesand yesterday they stoodon dreams of men flyingand that is the only eternityI care to subscribe to.
Oblivion.Your fleshbelongsto something bigger.
dawn, ellipsed.it only makes sensethat we should make lovewith our words first:testing out the contoursof our consonantsand the valleysof each voweluntil we're readyto map outone another's skins,to meetevery scaband scarand story,and learning which wordsbelong as whispershot off of tongues,printed on the napesof nervous necks,and which declarationsof ecstasyshould be shoutedso loudlythat the coupleon the next pageis pounding on the wallsfor quiet...we will lay our headson pillows of proseand listen for our stormybreath to crash intothe space between usand calm into solidarityand dawn will breakour lips into grinswhile our eyes remain in sleep,and your fingers are stillwading through my hairand we will punctuate each daywith kissesalways choosing ellipsesbecause there is no endto us(and becausejust one is never enough).
some part of you, some part of me.I want with youthe kind of intimacyI indulge inwith Pal Malswhile hunchedunder streetlights.I already crave youwhen you're missingfrom the space between my teethand I carry some part of youin my back pocket,and like a sandbagon a silk balloonyou keep me woefully grounded-but I want to drag you downdeepinto my chestand let you paintsome part of me blackbefore you slipfrom my lips,and I want to be satisfiedonly until you whisper againfrom inside my head.I want to make you burn,cupped behind my handlike a conspiracyagainst the breezes,and I want tosee your glowagainst the cobblestones,distortedby the stained glass in the pubacross the street.I want to sneak tastes of youin public parksand bathroomsand I want to reek of youso distinctlythat we get dirty lookson the underground.I want to take off yourfilterwith trembling hands,and I want to sacrifice my fingertipsto savor youto the last begging emberand crush that endbeneath my solewhile our
EvolutionEvolutionis a silent process of changingwe realise from the result.It Can't Be The Target.
UntitledGlide through the heavensin hopes to evade the crimson wingsthat holds you down.Be free.When will you shut the pearly gatesand walk away?When will you cut the crying chainsthat paint you grey?be free.Be freeBe Free.
ExelixiΕξέλιξηείναι μια σιωπηλή διαδικασία αλλαγήςπου αντιλαμβανόμαστε εκ του αποτελέσματος.Δεν Μπορεί Να Είναι Ο Στόχος.
LostLost –Like a vagabond.Split – At a four-waystreet, past any signsthat I comprehend.If I had I had it my way,I would cruise on the highwayand never stop.
pillow talkthere are thousandsof tongues i couldmemorize; new wordsfor love tucked betweenteeth often bitingtoo hard.my chapsticked lipscould learn to bow togrammar laws incountries i'llnever visit.i could master writingsymphonies in syntax,spend hours penningvolumes in languagesof longing and love,but i'll never find aphrase that fits youthe way your body fitto mine, back bent.i'll never find a namefor how our lips tuckedtogether, for my handsin your hair, for therapture in your eyes.
adolescenceWe look up into the skyand see the stars as millionsof possibilities for us to wrap our handsaround and try, picking and choosingour favorite constellations like applesin the fruit aisle of a grocery store.We talk about our dreamsof leaving this townfar behind and far away,but we don’t talk about howleaving home means leaving each otherand each constellation we wrap our handsaround propels us into completely differentdirections. We want to hold on to each otheras much as we want to let go of this dustbowl,but we can’t have both,and that scares us.We look up into the skyand see how big the galaxy iseven when we can’t see 90% of itand we are suddenly aware of howsmall we actually are, barely grains of sand,barely specks of dust, barely here at all.We stop looking up and lookdown at our feet shuffling,worried and afraid for each otherbecause we barely sleep and failinga class means failing high school,failing to get into the dream college,fai
Five Reasons to Not Write PoetryI.Sooner or later,It'll mess with your head;You'll be taking a shower, orLying in bedWhen the "inspiration"Hits you hardAnd when you miss the bus and first hourYou have to use the"I over-slept" card.II.It'll have you thinkingAt every point of the day;Twisting words and making rhymesProdding until the language swaysTo your fingertipsAnd theLower case letters nipIn hopes that you'll use themAbuse them until you are atYour hem.III.They will mock you untilYou simply can't think;The words swirling around,They will push you to the brinkOf complete denial,Of absolute insanity;"Yes, I ate enough" and "Yes, IFeel fine" are the words youHave to beat.IV.You will not care how peopleReact to what you say;What do they know ofWhat we do everyday?You think that to yourself,As a way to not seek helpIn the comfort of realLove and not the fake kindYou write of.V.You will lie and you willCheat and scoff and sayNothingFor all your mostImportant words are
What Rape Can't Tell YouHe parrots the word, over and over until it sticksLike the bruises on schoolchildren's hands, when they realize purple hurts more than redWhile others mourn the translation lost in betweenThe definition he wroteAnd what they want to scream to the world.All you know is a word,The hell hidden beneath it is nothingBut the trace of a memory that doesn't belongTo you, and you're so glad it isn't yoursBecause then that pain can just be a word,A beautiful illusion of pretend-this-doesn't-happen andThis-won't-happen-to-youYou deserve prettier words, better words, you thinkOnes that stay silent, can be hidden across a pageVictimless and longer than the four letters they warn you aboutYou don't know how that word is strungOr why they tie chords around their wristsIn protest, why the memories they drag are drugged andFilthy with the crimes that can't be forgivenYou don't know how that syllable can hurt,What it can doYou don't see the gashes in their organsOr the fissures tha
EmbersHer hair was orangeand glowed in the fireturning black and ashnot a single moment laterthe scissors were coldThe embers wereglowing just the samehungry for her tressesthe royal red burnedyet no burn was leftHer hair was shortuneven with amber rootsoutgrowing the dyeshowing her natural shademom and dad took the scissors awayOrange locks tickle her neckfire cannot fight firemom and dad breathe easiershe does not touch the scissorsthough she always looksShe is eighteenleaving home is a blessingher hair bundled in a hatshe does not like to see itthe brightness keeps her up at nightThe hairdresser mourns her hairmore than she ever doesas it falls limply to the groundthe locks have lost their hueshe smiles as they fallIt is easier to tell people she is happynow her hair is goneorange roots don't show on a shaved headshe stands proudly nowshe doesn't keep scis
Second.I've no crystal ball,no misty eyes,no magicwanderingthe hallsof my heart,but I can tell you now,today,just how our friendship willfall.