Jaded Empire

Disclaimer: This one gets a little dark.

So jaded and hated as you break down into all the junk of life creating excess trash and depression with a road paved with bad intentions. Nothing you do is enough for anything and that’s because you’re less than a person in society’s eyes. The worst is what belongs to you for that is all that you are given in this putrid and debasing world. Who knew you could become so dark in a matter of seconds, but hey, no one is enough anymore so it makes sense that you decompose into fragments of dust littering the walls, surfaces, and polluting the water. You are now less than human in a world that bred you for consumption. As for me, I hope they enjoy their meal, for the secret ingredient is to DIE for.

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Half-Baked Innocence

Today I smiled at the thought of deserts consuming entire cities.

It’s not up to you to fix what you did not break. It’s not up to you to chase what does not want to be followed nor to lose your peace for those with no peace in their hearts.

What you’re meant to do is to live well and freely without shackles imposed on you by others. You are meant to cut the threads connecting their words to your head so that you may think truly without their hidden agendas influencing your actions.

You don’t deserve a half-baked innocence.

Wishing for Rain

I don’t take drastic measures, they must seem that way. I only take measures to reach what I hope to achieve. Last year I learned when I should cut back the ill growth of this fragrant rose bush that I am trying to cultivate. I have already learned this year when to let go of leaves that are meant to fall. For the greater good, I make choices because there is no point in holding on to thinly dangling foliage. I have also been in the process of learning how to fertilize and in learning when it is necessary to cut back excessive growth–My roots dig in deeper into this rich soil. It is all love in this horizon; it’s just that love sometimes might hurt a little in some places. I hope I have the willpower to heed the words of the wise and the courage to stand alone as I cultivate this Golden Celebration.

Anxiety

Limits superimposed like the eerie look of clock hands one below the other. Each heavy breath taken is a large wave pushing you under and weren’t breaths supposed to mean that you were living? You know that feeling you get when you’re in a meadow, but can’t remember the way you came in and now you fear trying to exit because you ran out of food and water and you’re also injured. It feels like I’m fanning myself with a broken fan on a hot day, its accordion-like paper frayed.

Sometimes you feel trapped and telling others doesn’t do much for you because they are also trapped in their own glass jars like spoiling jam left on an abandoned counter in an abandoned house. Perhaps in order to rise you need to burn down your home so you are left with no choice, no comfort, only the will to survive. Do you understand self-destruction now?

Snowflake Edges Melting Under Sunshine

I cut so many snowflakes into paper.
I think it’s because they’re so short-lived and fragile.
Upon touching my fingers they melt,
Much like scenarios all around me.

The people in my life melt too–
My father, my friends, my ex lover.
It’s because my blood is on fire and I live…
Down South in the Florida pollution.

No snowflakes fall on my porch.
So I make them come to life.
They’re born from old scissors
And copy paper influencing young minds.

I make them when things get pale.
I make them when I cough uncontrollably.
They melt when my dad is in jail,
When his dreams melt away.

This is reality and snowflakes don’t fall in Florida no matter how many times the water heater breaks.

Teacups on the Floor

My heart is breaking,

Tiny teacup scattered on the floor.

My lips are now quivering,

For some time, my head has felt quite sore.

 

There is nothing in letters,

That tells of any reasons as to why you closed the door.

My mind of ruffled feathers,

When the wild grass grew near the river shore.

 

The branches of your arms,

Tied across your chest forevermore.

Your voice the sound of palms,

No longer can I ever adore.