potency

By unpleasing

1.4K 193 29

can you hear them? every step aching toward us? : the here and now poems More

dead things
the innocence of a starry night
calcification
i am the genius they failed to tell you about
lights in technicolor
bloody march
blue face, gold heart
pink blizzard
i've become one of those old people who read in bookstores
warm glow
Slow Down, You Crazy Child
i've heard about me
here
liquid feet
it's beach day in the fields
Diary of My Recent Breakdowns
ghost town
sounds
DISASTER WARNING!
the gold framed mirror

kalidascopes

83 10 1
By unpleasing

when i promised myself to float,
let the water trickle down my face,
hands out, eyes up in a pool of salt,
i didn't think it would still be like this.
i thought that once things change,
the axis of the earth has tilted some degrees
and you can breathe the agile air,
the consistency of freedom would lick my lips
and i'd never been unhappy again.

i find it still true to look out the window to a newly etched earth,
the bliss of being able to talk at parties,
the blind transfixions of blue eyes
that i had avoided for so long
[especially those]
and, that fraction of a moment,
like a shooting star, so slim you have to be paying attention,
where a breath between your teeth is otherworldly,
my eyes are clouded with galaxies and prosperities,
life and lust pulsing like injections.
i can feel the surge awakening with new
a bloom of new life under the skin of odd species.
it's there. i know it is.

what i've failed to ponder,
didn't seek in these new commitments,
is a fright that bridges under skin.
a day in which waking is the hardest thing
i've done thus far
and i haven't even gotten out of bed.
those poking insecurities
whose eyes bore holes in me
still crawl in the corners of the mirror.
i'm breakable, still fragile by design.
i still beg for a heart in balance,
though it rocks to and fro with the winds.
i thought i'd done my dues,
it was finally my time to breathe without fear,
but it seems that life will pull you down under
no matter how far you've climbed.

and with this realization
came peace.
i am not half a soul because i bleed.
in fact, the dark that swells in black nights
mixed with the purity of a white morning
creates a kalidascope; both colorful and whole.
now, as i move through these last few weeks
of bronzed skin and wild eyes,
my heart is still.

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