OverStimulation////////////////

OverStimulation////////////////

Thursday, March 31, 2016

The last poem I need ever write



Convey to me a way to say
that everything we did today
will last forever
in at least
the littlest way.
And all the lips
of lovers lost
linger still
in the shades of sky.
And all the world
is the greatest art
And each of us
play an essential part.
And each of our hearts
are weighed down
by the words that we
never spoke,
so speak.

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Sincerely, Red




The street lights weren’t golden.
They were sangre.
And every time he blinked,
his missing heart
managed to gasp.
Because he could still see the blue
in even the darkest sky.
The deepest.
It was still blue.
Is there someone there?
Anyone?
No.
Only lost voices
hiding inside your ears.
taking shelter there,
because the world is cold
and cruel
and it chooses not to listen.
They say keep running.
The voices.
Keep running.
Don’t leave the shadows.
God only knows.
Who could be watching from a window at this hour?
L’appel du vide
No.
It’s more than that.
something
and that’s still more.
Don’t take this away from me.
Take anything
But not this.
Or the color blue.
Please.
Take something,
and maybe I’ll believe you.
You’re just a child,
made from fractured lines.
And I’m just a madman
with a pain in my chest.
Because that rib “He” took at the very beginning,
it’s still inside me,
sharp as a razor,
growing inward,
to say hullo to a lost friend
in the left of my chest.
Everloving,
everflowing
my weakness,
was always near,
even if she was a black hole away.
winking at the moon
through the moon
she was there.
No.
Get your head on straight.
Godamnit.
Who are you again?
Don’t ask me,

just a color.