From a Dream

I am shocked to life,
breathless.
My fingers on your face,
running,
cheekbone, lips, chin.
You tell me it's the sweetest touch.
Then you lean closer.
One tremble, then I am paralyzed.
You steal my life;
legs, arms, mind, breath.
One moment of brilliant, eternal bliss;
Suffocating,
I wake from the dream.

Labor

Coming to,
Out of the drunkenness,
It all becomes quite clear:
The cold and unassuming brick house needs no crumbling.
Wasteful are the drudgers,
with the hammers,
clanging and dripping sweat.
They are seeking something that does not exist.

Walls do not crumble,
that are built to withstand love.
So use force, then.
Attack with brutality,
tearing sinews and ligament.
For those only will collapse.

Blood, sweat, and tears build a stream,
It flows on down the mountain path.
Sparkling in the sun as it drips down rocky edges,
Like diamonds and rubies,
It is beauty.
Let it wash over the skin,
cleanse the filth away.
It rinses clean the days work.
The Fountain of Youth could not match this feeling.

From the pain and toil,
has come this moment of euphoria.
Feared or beloved?

Here's the start of something with potential...

Something undone, written while losing focus in class:

The cold singes my skin in such a way
That I cannot help but feel,
If I were not alone today,
This same world would fail to be real.

To float around with the drops of rain,
Falling fast towards the ground.
I guess I cannot feel their pain,
As I can never fall that far down.

Gravity will hold me up
As long as I can keep
Myself from losing all hope:
The spark before the sleep.

Under Pressure

The anticipation is the most threatening part.
Waiting for a rush of emotion to fill mind and body.
Either rise or fall with the tides.

Rise and feel your power.
Feel the control you have over the deluge.
Your weight is welcomed and cherished.
It does not suffocate, but invigorate
The mountain of passion,
That must be scaled.

Fall too, and feel power
As it presses against your every corner.
Do not try to escape it.
Welcome every last ounce of raw gravity.
You are a thing of worship,
Laid down as an offering to Aphrodite.

Bask in the beauty of it all.
The tension and relentlessness of this climb.
Give and take in this passion.
Rise and fall.

An Attempt at Rhyme

Who are you?
To have this power over me,
To make my brown eyes blue,
To suffocate the silhouette that makes me free.

I cannot bare the pressure,
If it is not against my skin.
The gravity is made much worse,
When it is pushing from within.

Your hands,
I can still see their trace.
Lines left all around.
Yearning for their warmth on my face.

In these moments,
When I lose all strength,
When I lose all sense,
I begin to break.

I am in the unforgiving water,
Suspended and without motion.
I can see no farther,
Than the horizon of my own ocean.

For now, you have left me in the dark.
To walk alone in this cold.
My only reminder is this last mark,
And the promise that you told.

White Dwarf

It's titillating really,
this awkward, half-existence.
How do we get to this place?
A blank plain of ice, crowded
by warmth in hearts, fur coats, and coals.
Yet the ice creeps up through the feet,
to numb the senses.

This feeling,
The slow and constant dulling,
Of the fingertips and the once soft, red lips.
The vacuum that sucks in,
all life and warmth.
Almost like the death of a star
that slowly collapses inward on itself.

It will eventually form into a solid mass,
losing all heat and light.
It remains hanging and lifeless.

So will this soul.
In a white dwarf state.

another one from the archives, also without a title...

Hoofprints left behind,
Sunken memories in the mud.
Spring reveals all that's been hidden and forgotten.

Let the wounds back open.
Feel. Hurt.

Summer will be soon enough,
Here to dry the cuts in time to heal.
Play wildly in bliss.

But for now, sink your feet into the earthy sorrow.
Let the ground soak up the pain.
She may make us weep, but
Mother Earth holds fast to her children.

Stand, grounded.
Feel. Hurt.

Hurt, but be comforted.
The Sun's rays can singe the skin,
With bits of hope.

An urge always exists,
To jump in,
Float in the water,
Let it wash you away,
To nothing.

But please,
Stay here.
Feel. Hurt.

an oldy, untitled

I am lost, but I can only find myself.
Waters rush, cleanse my mind.
Wind blows, blow it all away.
Hide nothing from the Earth.
Rampant, naked ritual.
In this lies a wicked hallucination.
Truth.
Natural truth.
Only truth.
Alive.

Balasana

Laying open in my own dark abyss,
I grasped the void,
Groped the nothingness in search,
Of what, I cannot describe in words.

There is a yearning to explore,
To tumble, somersault, and explode in this space:
Means to no end.

For eternity I could live in fancy,
Act out the motions of dreams,
And dream as far as a dreamer cannot realize.
Beyond.
Still nothing can be realized.

Is living in-fancy akin to infancy?
Am I stuck in child's pose,
Nose to the ground, listening to the Earth for a truth?

Breathing in through the ground,
Earth's whisper and vibrations fill my veins.

Perhaps this simplicity is all I need.
Invigorating the mind with breath and being.
Forget the yearning,
the material.

Breathe.