spinning in fragments of your mind
wandering far but close behind
from streets we twirl
a feign i dare
to feel you against my skin
a dark thought like shadows climb my mind
i used to be twenty-two
you used to be a little too
with a different depth than i
and i twirled in subconsciousness
in your darkened bathroom
a top a marble floor
sliding near but far
echoing thoughts from baseboards
of 16 foot ceilings
and i never told a soul
of your name
i never speak writings the same
it was damp culture
a sullen mind
two echoes twisting in bits
i reminisce in this, a kiss and bliss
warm sheets against my skin
cold backs and we twist
i love, i lose, and i move
towards things which culture me
your name plays in my mind
occasionally
i never took it personally
i knew you were never meant for me
-
-
spinning in actions, i only feel the tension
of a head in rotation on a bed twisted sideways
i lean to touch your heart
yet i feel the void of nothing at all
to spin or to fall or to even love at all?
i break your neck in my mind at night
you used to happen somewhere around midnight
wading in hopeless as you used to
just like i felt used, too
nothing made sense, i’ve said it again
i shadow at your bend, ringing corners again
your heels at my head, i push
sometimes it feels good to feel like this
i like your masochism like i like your lips
against my skin at night, pillows against my mouth—
to speak in tongues and i quake for the devil to tell me
things you said in shadows of corners in alleys i walk by
you used to whisper things in passing
i pretend to not hear as i’m not quite here
i’m there sometimes, i’m swinging wine
dancing in the twilight in dark mines
echoes in your heart to fill the void
you’re a poltergeist but i disguise you to be
somewhat of pleasing to the eye of many
i show the signs and i’m dancing on fault lines
in broken down rooms where you used to
fill something i needed but i’m here to be
with or without, near or far, dark or light
being to breathe, feigning to be me
under the skies at night is when i find time
to think of you in depth, in the quietness
your eyes atop mine, your body against mine
my warmth for your cold, things i said
words you couldn’t hold
a spine which could bend for men other than i
we twist and i kiss
goodbye to you
broken down memories of you
how i know you felt used, too -
i’m lying on your lips
on the edge of the bed
painted by blues of a damp hue
like your edges atop mine
waves pushing against i
and i tango in your breath
to feel something i used to reminisce
your heart against mine
the wind against i
dancing in motions
on a dark winded roller coaster
i used to paint you black
to pull the edges back
pick your brain in the evening
to see if this would be worth keeping
i used to say we’d die in time
knowing it all goes too fast
like broken ribs on a race track
where you’re in circles
with cracks dividing your moments
feels like depression on your back
swaying in twists, in mists
in a numbness you happen to control
you miss what you can’t have
you miss what you used to have
do i ever miss what i did have
i do, i did
i can still feel it
i’ve still touched it
and i didn’t remember your name in the moment
which felt like power
yet it was something softer
it was your wind against mine
but it seems like
mine was always a bit softer
and your name happened to be
something people get over -
A masochist only feels the feeling of pleasure.
-
As time moves, you realize every single relationship you’ve had, regardless of the length, is a bittersweet reality and a memory gained.
-
sliding on your teeth and your lies
you kind of taste like midnight
a dash of cheap wine
in street fights
and i’m spinning in circles
in a twirl of emotions
breaking backs of men i tarnish
i swear to bare men in towels
in bedrooms i could only
dare to break through
i still taste your lips
and i forever feel you in this
our grip, that night
fine wine and screams in fright
in cemeteries i die
for this to make sense
for reasons to end
like fingertips
on your spine
i caress to bend you backwards
to bring you forth
to manipulate and eat my way
through a dark broken heart
of men i can’t hold
it’s not like i wanted
this to be
i wanted this to end
as a masochist
can only feel
the feeling of darkness -
i’m spinning in motions
in a dark twisted emotion
blaming the past on lust
instead of what it was
a darkness, a void
truth i sat too long to hold
like grips on my neck
nails on my back
and i’m spinning in motions
in a sad drunken position
happiness folds
to creases which cause you to skip
and i’m skipping on you
skipping past paths i clung to
happiness coexists with sadness
because happiness wouldn’t be
without a touch of sadness
as no truth exists without the depth
of what it is
like you and i
on steps which lead to a door i spun in
wheels of your car which we threw words
of hatred and aggression
and i wonder if wandering helped
the idea of something else
walking through corridors of doors
i couldn’t speak
languages which never made sense to me
your eyes on mine
your spin against mine
backdoors which stayed close
you left your clothes in the drawer
on the left side of the bed
they’re still there
although i’m no longer here -
Time moves with or without you. It’s up to you how you use it. It’s up to you how you let people affect how you use it.
-
i lick your chin
to feel the stubble
of your ache on my heart
where i knew we were born
in a moment
on a street
with hands twined
through fingers i couldn’t grip
and i touch your lips
to feel a pulse of mine
atop yours
a stone cold feeling
of dark
chasing a spine
of a man who was never there
and always so far
i venture through valleys
to feign in the pain
of your eyes in a dim lit kitchen
feeling for what was
and at twenty-seven you hadn’t
yet wine spills and oasis still exist
our legs move forward with time racing
your eyes bend with time
wounds tend to heal in rotation
we’re turning tables
twisting in pretentious movements
i ache your name
to feel your pain
i felt your life at the tip of your fingers
a lost electricity
moving through veins to make vain
we still exist in a world which is far from here
in holograms i twirl in your kitchen at night
it’s all parallel like our lives in this time
in this life -
I’m not really here. I am physically, but metaphorically I am not. I just exist sometimes. Occasionally I’m present, but majority of times I’m not. I stand. I hold in place. Periodically I sit. Sometimes you see my eyes drifting. I’m not wondering. I’m wandering. I’m seeking. I’m observing. I’m listening to the wind. I’m grasping the moment. I’m grasping time. I’m feeling this. I’m trying to understand what this is. I’m not here nor there, but elsewhere in between the hologram.
