Message

My love
In the echo dark, I have an alertful slumber
Blood rushes to my fingers as I reach
You seem so attainable, adjacent to my thoughts
Your essence is present for the slip of a second
My body deaf for so long,
I don't even breathe
Transfixed, as to not awaken you
You are an caribou in the plains
Hushed beating of my pulse
Plush pine leaves mute my footsteps
My manner crave to approach you
to caress the soft exterior
it breathes your vulnerability
My palm seconds from the body heat
My love
you occupy the chasm within my salty grip
My love
when I awaken
you are cold and silent
absent from the fullness
miles away
I have always been empty
But my fingers cannot cease to extend
aimed for my love.

Truth

Why can't we live to be?
Instead we live to do.
We search, we discover
around the next corner
under the next bush
we strive, we achieve
unbeknowst, bliss is left unnoticed
shadowed by the next footstep.

Preface: Lights

Note before you read: In Greek mythology, the Sirens were three dangerous bird-women, portrayed as seductresses who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island.

Spread your legs.
Swallow the last of the water dregs.
Shuffle your feet.
Every droplet is symbolically sweet.
We are stunted to the ground
but you hover to that pounding sound;
you are an engaging multicolored cloud.
The beat to your soul is so loud.
A siren tugging at your logic,
the serotonin masking the neurologic,
uncontrollably making your teeth grind,
and every notion is inclined.
She strums at your pleasure spot
you feel you are a big shot.
She summons you to eat out your heart
and you wish these nights could indeed restart.
So you let her.

Chapter One: The I, Tiffany = egomaniac?

Draw a hallow breath.
Command myself those pretty implications.
Pretend like I am unflustered and composed.
Contain the roar inside.
I am seeking to defeat myself.
As the battle rips through my rib cage.
Dead center.
Like a thousand clots,
causing an ingested heart attack
or a single air bubble,
that travels at a promoting velocity,
straight to my brain cells.
Cannot reckon but I
continue to brainstorm
continue to shut down
till I hit that freeway to a stroke
perverting my smile
reconstructing my reality
Eternally in search
for that wretched truth.

Chapter One: The past

Cold sweat scampers and trembles along my neck,
taunting my peace,
leaving my thoughts in a utter wreck.
Destiny and dreams are a man’s desires.
But like all things that dwell,
it must depart and expire.
Hope dies a slow, sedated death of individual degrees.
It is like a green astounding leaf without its mother tree.
The leaf shrivels and pleads for its source of survival.
Only finds a man’s shoe to be its murderer
before knowing its rival.
My aspiration is similar to these forgotten leaves.
My soul claimed for what was to be mine,
fool to the word: thieves.
They stole my rights to untroubled memories and my youth.
My eyes suddenly opened to see the blinding ugly truth.
The sight of hideous crimes and the soreness of morality.
Worst they robbed my soul and I was no longer able to face reality.

Chapter One: Through the looking glass

In the thick pitch-black habit of defective mates,

muted lights appear like brilliant sunrays.

So we all settle like the cheating wealth at court.

Bitter, saturated stones press onto my nerves

and that fictitious heat ignites my nape

Like cocaine-rubbed gums, the mouth is stoic.

It becomes effortless to believe your deception

And you fancy my soul for your hunger

My dirt-cheap soul to procure

in exchange for that short lived sensation of

desperately desired devotion,

even if it is barely for an instant.

Chapter One: Change

Gradually, I felt my self conscious slip back in my life without permission.
I once banished it from the mappings of my head when I decided that life was too short to think twice.
I wanted to give in to desires and become gluttonous with the sweet fruits of being alive.
Now, this way of thinking is vanishing and a more human side is seeping through.
Humans are restricted with emotions, responsibility, and second thoughts and I felt this is a flaw.
Now coming to realize, this flaw is whimsically perfect.
The flaw allows for challenge, insight, and change.
Therefore, I will subject myself to change but only if it leads to my end goal.
It is what I wish for every time I blow away a fallen eyelash, flickering birthday candles, and fragile dandelions.
What I believe is the root of all human actions: Happiness.
So this is the beginning of my expedition and struggle to come to the realization of both inner peace and eternal bliss.