How do you maintain your edge in all of these idealism that has been clinging to you, these chains of insecurities holding you back. Tell me, darling, how do you make sure that you grow from all of that ache in a heartbeat? How do you win against this gravity of "I can't be enough's" that are pulling you down, down to this magnetic apocalypse that is giving birth to these shrines constructed of these holy tears that I can no longer hold. Through those heart wrenching words that I read everyday, I know, I with a fatal dream, am not the only one who is slowly fading away in this brokenness, losing his religion and flying one-winged. My lord, my hands conjoined together, my body bowing in front of you, my soul in your hands, I wish for one thing: could you tell me a remedy to make sure that I can breathe again and break myself free from the yesterday's that try to define me. Cleanse me and make my soul human again such that when I close my eyes, I don't transmute into a bipolar, with constant change in these moods that I no longer feel control of. Mi amor, are you planning for Satan to sing me all of those locked up lyrics that I have written when I had kerosene all over my body, the matchstick lying just near the corner. Is that what you want? If not, just tell me a remedy to keep my edge?
YOU ARE READING
This is me trying
PoetryA collection of poems and proses churned out from the blueness
