In love with pretty skies
Butterflies
Budding highs
Friday afternoon thai
Cheap fries
Quick replies
Wise guys
Compromise
Big bow ties
Sickly sweet pies
Hummingbird cries
Every july
Heavy sighs
Hands on thighs
The look in your eyes
In love with pretty skies
Butterflies
Budding highs
Friday afternoon thai
Cheap fries
Quick replies
Wise guys
Compromise
Big bow ties
Sickly sweet pies
Hummingbird cries
Every july
Heavy sighs
Hands on thighs
The look in your eyes
something inside this heart died
when i opened the door i think the cold
made it’s way to my chest
i just had to come down
from you
—
I stare at the rats
And wonder if I am jealous
Because they get to retreat
Into the holes
In the walls
And I am stuck wondering
Whether I will jump
Off this platform
—
*Inspiration: the F train
Glasses welcome back!
You were oh-so missed by these two shiny marbles
It’s the aftermath of a thunderstorm when you rest across my nose
Sky once cloudy now crisp
No more blurred lines
Sunset I’ve missed you!
The way you get better with time
The threshold where yellow meets blue
And turns into orange then embers
A picturesque scene behind the silhouettes of buildings
That make me feel so small
Even from 13 floors up
Like life
You grow saturated then dull to pastels
Until everything settles navy
Only streetlamps to illuminate beauty
—
*Inspired by the small things.
why are you so far from here
i have been walking for days
chasing these bread crumbs you left
i’ve been dreaming of sleep
and in my sleep i dream of your face
the sound of my thoughts are
terribly
loud
—
You ask me to just be myself
And I ask myself if I’m scared of being myself
Because myself is a tornado of bad and good
I can lift houses off the ground
And dismantle roots from the earth
While providing sun to flowers in April
And creating puddles that reflect the clouds
I know we all have issues
But I’m still trying to sift through mine
The anxiety, the sadness, the confusion
Blur in the spaces between laughter and disbelief
I’m still not sure how to hold a conversation
Until it’s already in my hands
You ask me if you’re making me nervous and I just laugh
Because I’m always nervous
The strangest part
I used to think it was normal
Until someone told me to relax
And I realized how tense my shoulders are
How worried I am of my image
From the back, from the front, from either side
Is it neat
Is it relaxed
Is it put together but not rigid
Is it perfect
No perfection is impossible
Still I put myself down
For that little extra skin, for the droop in my eye
And you don’t realize what loops through my mind
A film reel on repeat
Never dusty
—
*Because who is “myself” anyways?
*While I’m on vacation for the next two weeks I’ll be posting some writings I’ve written over the past couple months.
Today I talked to my therapist
And the look on her face
Made me realize
That maybe it isn’t so normal
Or efficient
To section your closet
Or stop reading at chapters
Or finish a series
Even if you don’t like it
I always thought they were quirks
But maybe they’re compulsions
Now I laugh when I see strong work drive
On applications
Because my work drive could be defined
As overkill
Over worked
Because productivity is more important
Than relaxation
Maybe on account that I bore easily
Too easily
And sitting still is analogous to monotony
Then she mentioned my need for control
And I bit my lip
Because I have been trying
To maneuver this current
For a while now
She asked me how it would feel
But my imagination is feeble
And every time my foot starts to tap
I take a breath and remember
Right here is right now
Process is overwhelming
If not taken step by step
And maybe that’s why I like
Self-help and how-to’s so much
Because I am constantly looking towards the future
Feeling insignificant
Insufficient
Until I remember how tall I can stand
And how loud
I can be
—
*Inspired by all those issues.
Today a man wearing a leather jacket
Reminded me of you
Then someone else passed
Wearing your cologne
And I remembered I haven’t seen you
In almost three months
And I felt homesick
Because you will always be home
And when I got back to my new home
I rested my elbows
On the windowsill
And stared out at crisp skies
Scattered with grey
Misty clouds
As the sun illuminated behind them
And I stood there
For a while
Trying to bottle up the emotion
Struggling to find a name
On the edge of serenity
Only capable of repeating
This is home
This is now
I am here
—
*Inspired by those pinch me moments for living out the times you’ve always dreamt of.
The tiles are ugly
Until I remember
That they have been here
Longer than I have
They hold whispers
From the homeless
The musicians
And the homeless musicians
The tiles at second ave
Hold sighs
From late trains
Or trains that never came
At fourteenth
They hold angry stares
From pedestrians who know better
They should’ve left
Ten minutes earlier
West fourth holds calls from beggars
Begging the men in Oxford shoes
For a spare dollar
Broadway and lafayette
Always sees that same man
With a “free hugs” sign
Penned in sharpie
On cardboard
But no hugs to give
On days I forego earbuds
The city sings back to me
The tiles tell me
You said you would always be in love
But you’re not in love
They tell me
Oh God you miss her too
It’s all you ever do
It has long since been
That I have heard melodies echoed
Throughout the tile and tracks
—
Captured all the dread from the room
Was what he said
As he held out a paper cup
In triumph
Veins of ink
Suspended in water
Was all I saw
So I smiled wearily
Because it’s been awhile
Since I believed in fantasy
And I wanted so badly to
Pop his eyeballs into my head
So I could see what he saw
I wonder where my imagination took off to
Bali or Cape Town
Or maybe Bermuda
Never to be seen again
Maybe I became this darkness
When I stopped noticing the little things
Too caught up in will be
Not enough will to be
But enough am to want
I hope
He did capture all the dread
Because lately I’ve been feeling
Heavy
—
*Inspired by childhood novice and imagination.