wilts

I want to open up to nothingness and wilt away my feeling skin see it shed like feathers and be happy of it this is a metamorphosis flying with iron wings rather be a meteorite that can cause craters on the moon fuel the sun — raise mountains from flat beds a gardener of the waves

reinvention of a flower

what I feel is an aperture of sunlight sliding in from my curtains blue then silver then flashes of green; slants of gold in the morning light, my mind half-awake, feeling half-dreams and half-premonitions; tucked between loose blankets of my dream and reality not bothered by the critical analyses of politeness my heart desires to

erasing pain

my heart has swallowed a large pitcher of sadness pre-summer days quote in heat and sigh in zephyrs like commas in a run on sentence — building up my bones like a house or a locomotive; both nano and steam evaporates through the lines of osmotic transcendence quiet was the night adjusting the windows as

lamenting friendships

I think for the past few days I have been feeling a certain alienation from people. People are not logical. This is something I have learned both the easy way and the hard way. But, this is not a treatise glorifying emotions either. Emotions can be pretty messy and difficult to express so we use

Peripheral I

walking down the path exploring the stoned pavement clinking of my boots underneath tingled with my breath the night is vast and the sky vaster as I move along; trying to know the streets near my temporary home as if I am sewed on them as buttons passing a bus stop a blonde beauty with

You within •

A surrealist night journey that makes mouths living stars and the thread of existence like the line of a smile awaiting some arrival – beautiful Mari strokes again =)

Saturday Morning Thoughts

Originally posted on mvitrano:
Is it egotistical for the writer to believe they can create something worthy of someone’s time and attention? (as if that’s even the point) To create little or vast pocket universes, alternate realities, that capture the imagination and transports the reader to ideas and places undiscovered. Perhaps it’s more accurate to…

palm of a blue giant

a blue giant branched out in my palm feeling me the force of love pulsating in the corners of my smile universalising my cure to frailty each page then resounded a letter that was me in the finest form filled with peccadilloes but also purities and the horse did not come to bring apocalypse of

chasm diegesis

there was a chasm of loneliness and it bore my name and I decided to fill it with tears hoping to reach the surface only sorrow did not quench that thirst and my tears had to be hope bound for what is sorrow if not a testament to hope? We will meet unfairness and injustice

classical antagonism

nothing seems to be more caustic than the ignorance of being ignored and the indifference to the genuine the practice of selective empathy that has the negative zeal of selfishness the mistaken selves on the shelves of some codified, communal and coefficient categorisations that a human moulds to serve themselves was I never good enough