i'm told freedom tastes like sweet red wine i do not drink rather i intoxicate myself on memories and hope. i imagine peace smells like blooming flowers on the first dawn of spring something my allergies allow no pleasure from she tells me stories of her youth with furver as if to lament in days of love she talks of duty as adoration as the chains clank in the wake of her footsteps she speaks of her love as an adventure her eyes tracing memories as if her hands ruffling through the pages of holy scriptures carefully revealing truths and lessons she speaks of blood as a gift though all it's ever given were sacrificial piers duty, she says, is rewarding as she carries burdens never written for her adventure now defined as anywhere other than what others label home though cuffs can be seen shackled to her feet and her face burdened with a smile she has bequeathed me many lessons the art of escapism my most cherished.
life is a game we play for this soul no longer exists obscurity is the nameless god blurry face is the lamented worshiper my body a temple ruin running thoughts through the mind a death trap maze my tongue governed its whispered name politicized my eyes warrants of self murderous thoughts my hands restless with the blood of my relatives their sins bathe me crimson - invisible their voices muffled into pangs of self-righteous beliefs the tree of family with its rope branch hugging my neck my eyes sparkle with faded dreams overshadowing leaves stretching over my very being unable to become my own icarus my wings have long since melted within the scalding flames of love.
You say if you could fly,
you’d never walk on earth.
For you only have eyes for that faded,
You know if you can just break free,
you’ll find what you seek.
So keep trying to release yourself,
to that faded,
Sometimes i grieve for my innocence lost.
My hands covered in the blood of my ancestral hopes.
Like shattered glass my dreams lay etched reflecting the broken sky.
The stench of gunpowder and forgotten mistakes perfume the air.
My eyes swollen and my vision impaired,
like frosted glass i am suspended in time.
the memory of who i am…
the vision of who i will be…
The pride of my folks,
wained under self loathing and disappointment.
Though hidden behind sunshine,
Suspended in time,
my body shivers,
for anxiety is my new neighbour.
My heart grows weary,
and in its chambers where a soul once resided,
now barren of hope.
But my mind of mistakes,
ever so bold.
And my innocence for life,
long since distasteful.
Now only a dark forest grows,
swallowing the very sun which brings life to it.
And thus trekking in the forages,
of forgotten hope
and misplaced pride
along with shattered dreams
and hazy memories,
i grieve for my innocence lost.
You say if you could fly, you'd never come back down. You only have eyes for that blue, melancholic sky. You know if we can just make it through, you'll find what you seek. So keep trying to break free, into that blue, pale sky. For there are only tragedies, and heartbreak, sewn into this withering land, awaiting their death to cry. So if there is one thing you ever do, break away into that pale blue. And into the horizon fly, disappear into that melancholic sky.
My heart, a hotel for the lost a halfway house for the abandoned a motel for the destitute a caravan for the traveler My heart, has long since forgotten itself shards of abandoned love pierce its flesh forgotten tragedies play melancholic symphonies an orchestra of the undesirables my ribcage haunted by cacophonies of sweet memories My heart, a wild creature howling at the full moon searching for its home but for now it remains a grand hotel for the lost
My rib cage a ghost ship where once a soul resided. Haunting of past loves come like spirits in the dark crevices. Creaks on floorboards where once the footprints of others ladened the hallways. Paintings of forgotten memories hung askew on the walls, nailed in by love and hurt, and worn over time. Tattered sails adorning the mantle, as the wind plays a melancholic soliloquy sounding through the surface amplified by the unnerving ocean. Below deck there are holes seeping water, but afloat this ship stays. Its compass misplaced and its true north long since forgotten. It merely steers with the currents, and the winds of change. From time to time lanterns are lit, and a warm glow is emitted to even that of the decks. And such is the mirage of this ocean, where the foolish hearted reside. This ghost ship in search of its long lost treasure, this rib cage in search of its long lost soul.