Turquoise Dilemma
March 23, 2020 ∆ 20:00
The room’s air ails with burnt yearnings and is sworn upon by the ghastly. On this twilight, I raise a concern. A bloated intrigue moves ahead of me. I stand either abstracted or blurred. I angst upon the questions. Here, the dread is born while sleep is broken. I leave behind the degeneration of past. I wish to see if the insane too long to leave the deathly, wallowing hark-lure-strokes of the woods. There is more to the heaviness in the frail borders of one’s vision.
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the present attempts to rein the future
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the things I cannot not have will always entice me
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memories burn to reveal the sorcery
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in the evening, a flash drawn from last night
March 27, 2020 ∆ 18:45
The room upon which the morning shines is in ruins. Nobody entered the inner sanctum, and I never intend to leave. I meld, against will, deprived of anonymity. The weathered rocks are the seal of human embrace; a burden lifted by many. Scrapes torn off to exhibit the rot wrench on the lampblack, combing death’s fear.
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an intruder never intends to leave the shadows
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a black swear blackened by its excess
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who is to say when the tense moment is satiated?!
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enough paranoia to scale a mountain
April 1, 2020 ∆ 16:40
Have you ever meant to spend the night to retrieve a memory? I did, and only then did I discover the blackness set in me. The ravines are where my wishes come alive, as I know and crave. In the dark, a saucerful of secrets, the long-lost laughter, haunts me, and I come across the awful dreads. I succumb to the veiled evening while drawing the pale moon out of the sky, wondering if I saw the satyr today though I hasten to lie.
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memories scatter like sun-feast in a bower
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bipolar breaths racing towards heaven
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the rage of an eagle as she descends, striking
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Moon calls. tides to tame.
April 3, 2020 ∆ 08:15
Slowly, I melt with the chaos, dreamlike — everglazed, sunken-dusk, shallow, and shrunken. Pressed against the wall, tired, I waste hours over the angst — a fire that swallows me. They burn the bridges between the nerves, ogling the ‘lesser me’ too many times. Blindly struck with my senses’ many-ends, the origins and the patchwork silence cave in.
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weeks run diagonal to seize a memory
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the limbo — undone by the deception
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rumors of the intrigue between the harlot and a charlatan
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tears of the love-torn fill the throat
April 7, 2020 ∆ 20:55
I rush past the doors that bear no sign of my exile and I undergo the dreams of a polychromatic night. I feel no weight upon my shadow. Possibilities vanish, a door opens — an ignorant mind struggling with the charm of the Dark. Denial is ingrained in the mind’s depth — a reminder to reveal in the memory, longdrawn, waste-like.
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square feet — the mute sky dances
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the jester swims, tranquil, in the ocean of silence
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the moons of Jupiter seize the imagination
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teardrops from the Milk-Moon shape a rose
April 14, 2020 ∆ 16:45
I have spoken to the people I adore. I take no name, so no memory is defiled in my dreams. The splintered hope remains, and upon the stay, embittered, I face the matters of neglect. Did I push enough to witness the excess? I leave the sleuth-past to withdraw into the mist-dreams. Do I need to rage through the ‘cryptic vault of no means?’ The spirits cajole in the cold. In the time where the past appears ravaged, I find myself revering false directions, never to redefine the inexistence.
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the night-sky pivots the day
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ecstasy rages against the agony of dreams
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stranger times ring echo-like in the silence
April 22, 2020 ∆ 21:20
Tomorrow, I will set ablaze the wretched silence. For months, I have spoken to no one. The anxiousness has left a stub upon my imagination. I wander in my loneliness, aloof. It swears to drain me, trading off almost any sense. Whatever left is stale and kindles me to bury my origins before I can obtain any meaning. This difficulty approaching an abatement — ‘the crux to impale’ - is a worry. Not to indulge in the loathsome, howsoever charmed with intrigue, I call to quiet my mind. The answering voice is profane, and I traverse the evening with it.
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windward, the ocean swallows the teardrops of sky
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the electric hum from a hungover sleep
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in a voice, the spear of memories
May 3, 2020 ∆ 00:15
Often, I wait upon the night to indulge in my mind’s apprehensions. I sense spite throughout my ponderings. I have nothing left to squeeze out of my memories. On and again are the miscarriages of dreams, and though I seek not, bafflement takes over. I lead my day through the ‘many-mind, kill-caverns.’ Nerves scattered in the brain — benign, yet exerting a slow unraveling — ever-present as an agony.
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a bargain to get away from the past
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the Risqué forgets to measure itself
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when the blue star beholds, I blink twice… to seek no more
May 5, 2020 ∆ 01:25
I veer towards an oppressing monotony, defiling abundance. The forgetfulness is a woe. Into the night, I head to where I am a crackle of an animated reality. I try to hide, to deny my bones from being chastised. I do not seek the disquiet in the gathering of ghosts. But these metal-tinged experiences of bile rush through me — always a loss of hope.
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no one gifts better than the autumn that must
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doubt ruins the silhouette of silence
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not a word escapes to shape my scars
May 10, 2020 ∆ 14:25
In a scramble, I feel abandoned, at a loss to draw myself away from the shelter of ever-years. My problem is rooted in the infancy of notion that the devious are dull in their drunkenness. Mist-like, night’s comatose malice hovers over me. The impressions — an apogee around a memory — blame me for their lies.
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a mourning tongue’s silence
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the night watches every minute pass
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suddenly, I am a stranger, and then I need nothing else
