These days are wasted on me whilst I am weighted with pensive breath,
reluctantly gregarious and thoughtfully tedious.
I have lost what was mine. As wisdom collapses to hazard, allowing happenstance to pave the way.
Optimism is carefully held, with delicate pause
Attentive, imperative
in this vulnerability accented by your absence, it has become evident.
In whirlwind upheaval, these sentiments would elude comprehension
sifting through clenched fists, water spilling from shattered glass
broken and brilliant
To entertain the periodic flight of fancy
crested splendor upon lips partially parted, breath escaping in ephemeral clouds
warm and disarming
A dalliance upon bright eyes that will never dull
entwined hands that will never let go
within a heart that will never die.
Oh, how you rip apart the clouds in all my days,
whilst others all fade away.
How adequately apologetic
this equanimity championed by our compliance.
How tempestuous these circumstances seem
even when severance has come with remarkable anesthesia.
How brave we must appear
our heads dizzy with liberty as our bodies shiver with earnest.
How evidently predictable we’ve become
but, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not sure.
With utmost fondness and diligence,
scarcely present in recent history or rhetoric. Dangerously sentient and recklessly forward,
I wear it on my sleeves like rusted anchors
derelict, unwanted, beautiful.
With spyglass and clenched compass,
wandering ceaselessly from mountains to seas. Withal, there has to be a threshold,
to measure my devotion though wavering
immense, ceaseless, pointless.
With love precarious and yearning
witnessing sights grandiose and pertinent. To listen, to feel,
the world rushing between my fingers and across my hand outstretched
through, beyond, without.
To foolishly entrench ourselves in rebellion,
ignoring coherence that manifests in tethered rationalism. Questions answered by questions,
a miserable infinity of obligation and consensus,
argued, agreed, absolutely fuck all.
Suddenly I find myself adventive in seas exotic and venturous, where the depths offer bountiful prospect for when the trembling ceases.
Of volition abided by sempiternal daring, I hold my breath and still my thoughts. Submergence.
Sinking below frantic sunlight and crystal waves. Beyond any trace of familiarity save the aeonian hush. Into a place where words become primal, and action becomes prevalent.
Beneath an immense desert, where I am never lonely, for I feel life stirring on all sides.
Hello, you must be one of us.
You feel it too, do you not? A great expanse throbbing within the confines of your chest and the relentless urge to create something great, something special, something consummate. Altogether terrified and aspirant, you know with unequivocal certainty that courage is the first and only step.
I would see it in the glimmer of your eyes, a quiet recondite confidence in your capacity to do something significant, to be someone important.
I want to tell you not to be afraid. To take the reins and ride into the unknown. To tell you that when the sun melts beyond the skyline and wild hues of dusk sweep over, let the wind embrace you. Shed all pretense, close your eyes and take a deep breath. The world is now yours.
You are powerful. You are boundless. You must be one of us.
We will rise once the sun has set the ocean alight. We will return once our ruins have sunk beneath the sea. We will dream once our bottled expectations have been swept upon a distant foreign shore. We will dance once the bonfires have enveloped all the things we no longer need. And then we will be bold once we have dug our toes into the sand.
Forthwith; We will stomp our feet in rebellion and shout our declaration to the sky.
We are still here and we will never again be silenced by the clamour of your day.
The days have weathered and worn my thoughts, and i grow ever more myopic in both heart and mind. I stare into the glowing blankness that has become the greatest characterisation of our morning sky, and i cry. A clarion call of urgent resolution that i would not founder, that i will not yield to a pedestrian life marked by tenuous affairs and extrinsic delights; that i will find you.
My lungs collapse, a pensive ventilation escapes my lips as my thoughts lull into a hush.
And i envisage with all i can afford that in a blistering storm of tears and furore, the sky would tear itself apart. The seas would collide and tumble for a seeming eternity before completely draining beneath the quickly dilapidating landscape. Everything would fall and crumble into the dirt beneath my feet and before long i would stand in a destitute wasteland.
And across miles of a world stripped bare, you will be there. Your hair in a precious mess, and your eyes looking straight into mine.
Whence entwined, promises of magnanimous amnesity ensure the fall of the individual whilst stalwart and altogether stoic. Why then, would you choose to measure our shortcomings with maudlin irony? Would you truly favour to sooner run with our arrogance than to walk with a friend?
Yet, i’ve seen it with my eyes and we all act so surprised when you come back.
Love is a decision. Love is a blessing. Love plays the violin as it sings in baritone about you and i. Love propels us to heights beyond what the eye can see. Love is trust and certainty. Orchestrated, wielded, proclaimed, fought for. Love is ruin. Love is hope. Love is everything you want it to be and nothing you can ever imagine.
So go on, break my heart again.
Thoughts stagnate as i lay my head down upon folded arms. Ostensibly, it would be a disastrous indulgence to let myself remember you whilst in this state of wasted vigilance. Yet, you would obtrude upon me. Glissading and flickering through my reverie, much like an aged film; arrhythmic and flushed of modern vigour.
I recall the adoration i felt whilst running my fingers through your hair, a deep wave of deluging sensations rushing forth and encapsulating me with every breath i dared take.
I reminisce the frigid nights we spent walking along empty midnight streets, each step measured and unwilling, either out of conjectured affection or dizzy rebellion. While you were busy minding where the road would take us, i marveled at how you glowed ever so splendidly beneath the marmalade street lamps.
And then i remember with accentuated grief: How arduous, how positively abandoned you must have felt, to have been alone on valentine’s.
I am sorry.
and i want you to know with deliberate certainty, and for what its worth:
that all it took was gentle labour to make me fall
down chasms of faithful regret and abstruse anguish. easily dismissed by the light of day
through aching hollows endlessly familiar and garishly intimate. easily discounted when life is in motion
beyond agonising reminders of absent company marked by throes of screaming carnal passion. easily discarded when we finally fall asleep
into your hands, cradled and snug. easily disarmed as i sink deeper,
deeper.
Of late, i am encumbered with tedium in frightful quantities and I find myself once again in a lull, inescapably bosoming and destructively beguiling.
Both my art and my craft are driven to calvary.
But surely does not forget, sleep cannot be photographed.
Disdains the trivial labeling of punctual brains,
a living dance upon dead minds.
I am indigent. A wistful starvation, i am full of vanity. Romance has no place in between hands clasped in surrender.
This is how i am; weak fingers laying upon keys unable to turn wild sentiments into something you can comprehend. It is in this diminutive recess that i reside in poverty otherwise dismissed.
I miss you so.
With waning relevance, the old records buzz lyrics and tunes that once served as anthems to our preceding straits and plights. How quickly our fancies and preferences change with age; ever fickle and entirely capricious. That said, it would not be too much of a stretch to suggest that our hearts may hold this same whimsical regard for all aspects of our lives, now would it?
Forever subjected to our torrential sea of emotions, our desires are consequently mere ignis fatui; we will attend to them, only to find that there is something of greater interest and brillance looming just over the horizon. That said, we all seem like little children chasing rainbows, now don’t we?
But we shall be winsome children at the very least, won’t we?
Adrift upon an aeonian vastness crested by skies of perfect splendour, ever ablaze not unlike unrestraint passions; forever in question. Eternal wonderment.
It is terribly quiet on this floatsam (all that remains to keep me from drowning), there is no hum of waves rising and collapsing into a single seamless sound. There is no roar of humourless traffic, a cacophony of honks and horns. There is no chatter of pedestrian handphone conversation being spat and screamed.
The wild blue yonder fractures, a streak of disruption cutting across pristine skies. There is the sound of glass shattering against plastered wall, and you screaming as tears well and fall.
Let us not descend into vanity, please.
