Cough

Remind yourself of the drowning today
So you swim tomorrow and breathe
the drops that may enter your lungs, so let them be,
Make the breathlessness your resort
You are that song you always listen,
It doesn't make you smile anymore
it doesn't make you cry either
It just stays forever

And when you reach the bleak street
Portray your win as a defeat
Surrender to the magnanimity
Life is not your friend but acceptance
Let the eyelashes touch slowly
Feel the time jumble?
It's stuck, it runs, it flows?
Run your hands through the air
Pluck the moments and eat them

Forget the earthquakes in your skin
For they forge your luck
Flighty the fault lines in your palm
Trace them, observe them
Till they are invisible
Swim now, please love, use your hands
Use your body, learn to drown
Your secrets are being coughed
Every second of the journey.

Threads

Our tales marinating in dry youth
I feel are incomplete lines of poetry
Do you remember our cocooned dreams
As I would, O' beloved life?

You would laugh at this coy man
you won't have to tell me twice
I know the dreams are only mine,
To create, contort and shape
My chest has held the glue to mend

My longing has known all bounds, as I stare
I see, a pair of grainy faces melting in the dusty photograph
on this relentless march of approaching wrinkles

This realm of vacations we never wanted
The men we idolized, singing six feet under
The women we broke our hearts for,
I told you about them, would you remember?

Existence is defined by the sun being too late,
And the changing nights and bottles
O life, reanimate me. Meet me far away,
for I have dug my feet into the sand
Threaded in me all of these thoughts
Sewn together with blanks I remain to fill.

Satisfactory Biped Troubles

The conversations and cuddles starting over the brewing clouds have lingered,

long enough to be a part of my sweat and clothes, of the last cigarette and the agitated loins.

Blanket as my fortress provides me juvenile courage to chase the elusive catch,

which is all but vanished as it bypasses the law of diminishing returns.

How luring the sustained high of cogent words, of toes touching, of warped thoughts,

and wrapped finger webs; vivid as a lucid dream.

Burning papers survive by the descendant ash I have kept safe,

it holds the talks, it cradles my dreams and the heat of the present,

of the moments spiked through a perennial presence, a mounting one,

a molded one cast in the shadow of a familiar figure.

Pristine as glass shards and ghostly ice knives has been my desire,

penetrating gently under your colored skin, try slowly and unsightly.

I've always been the dying ink for a paper in the time of need,

don't accept me but lie down and listen; casually.

The shoulders are going to disappear, the mountains hide bruises you have not seen,

as strong have a reputation to implode and be judged,

the weak of us are already dead, and the dreamers;

we are too scared, of our longings and our non-existent boundaries,

Too immersed in our own pacifism,

Too immoral to justify our hedonistic tendencies,

Troubling the world inch by inch but petrified,

to exchange our love.