In excerpts of Baudelaire
And portions of Blake’s supposed prophesies
I witness the possible origins
Of words you once had beautifully sown
In lines of supposedly earnest cacophonies.
As daily berating recollections
Of fluted notes of black and white
Lines and curvatures of symbols
In faulty imprinted flashes
Denote the extricated data
In compressions of glossy words
That were lost in monitor screens.

Whorls of possible glances of the possible
Origination of verses act as caustic reminders
Of the beautiful mechanisms of what remains
As the undiscovered mind.
As the mental cogs of my own
Can only visualise
The script at
The end.


I Don’t Know

I don’t love them like you do
I don’t know if I ever will.
My heart is small
It can only love few
It’s hands don’t reach
As far as yours do.
I don’t think I’ll ever
Be able to love them
Not like you do.

It takes too much work
To love them.
Every word
Every reaction
Every action
I hear it
I hear them plead
Love me.
But I just can’t seem
To do it properly.
And it doesn’t seem to matter
That I can be just like them.

They speak
They tell me things
I listen
But they don’t know
They don’t ask
About the pain
I feel
Because of you.
Not that I’d be able to
Tell them anyway.

Isn’t it funny
How the voices subside
The less I interact with them
The less prominent you became in my life.

I’ve seen it
That face
Of fear
Even jealousy.
They all bother me
Even if I may be able to understand it.

I thought
At least here
I could exist.
But not really.
The worst things
Don’t get written.
It isn’t safe anywhere.

I’m sorry
I couldn’t prove you wrong this time.

But you don’t know
The pain of losing you.

The One Where You

The only reality
I stopped fighting
Was the one
Where you
Threw me away.

If it had been
That I had traveled
In the wrong direction,
I could say
Go back the other way.

If it had been
That you were playing games,
I could say
I could stay
A little longer.

If it had been
That you deserted
For my sake,
I could say you were wrong
To cast me away.

If it had been
That all was imaginary,
I could reminisce
And relish in the memories
That bought me to this place.
While knowing
I, at the very least,

But in the case
Where you decided
To leave,
There was nothing
But sorrow.

I haven’t lived that one yet.

Let go.

Another Stranger

I close my eyes
And visit the future.

A future where you and I
Existed together.

I’d caress that beautiful head
And vomit words of praise.
I’d tell you how beautiful
You looked each passing day.
Your tender hands I’d hold
Forever amazed you materialized
As tangible bodily warmth.
As time would wither us both,
I’d be sure to remind you
Of how beautiful you were
That day,
And the ones that would follow.

But that’s in some fantasy place
A world where miracles happen.
Instead, I’m lost in this space
Where you don’t exist
As a lover.
Falling apart in this universe
Where you’re
Just another stranger.

If I Had the Power to Choose.

If I had the power to choose
Which reality
I would choose the one
Where there was us.

I would take all of it
All of the pain
All of the hate
All of the resentment
All of those lies
If it meant I could have you,
Even it were to be
Just for a moment.

But I don’t.

Reality is
The truths
That are available to you.

My problem is
My truths
Have no base
To stand on
Even after having asked you.

Because you’re a filthy fucking liar
Who fancies himself
To be
A snake oil charmer.

Even if it may be true.

It’s okay though
Because I’m just