what’s left

what’s left of lovers,
hugs in disguise,
thinking of monsters
but we’re none the wise
and while they keep struggling,
for better or worse,
like old tired deities
from cities of norse,
what’s left of friends,
shambles in truth,
wasted memories
of the dangerous youth
that we’ve both survived
and acknowledged and thrived.
what’s left of hearts,
imagination
and stare.

Binary

We lock eyes
in binary lies,
in nights and days,
and kings and queens,
indifferent to the noise,
we always choose
between black and white,
forgetting to grow
between spaces,
so focused on the aces,
and not remembering
how hard is to know
to fight the darkness,
but to resist the light,
to move between spaces
of easy harshness
and such heavy light.
We live between
heavens and hells.
But with all the bells,
i can promise you,
the inbetween is yours to take.

The Things I Wanted

Scattered and disturbed,
Like feathers lost by birds
In empty suburbs,
The things I wanted are the things I am.
The mirror stares at me,
All buttons undone,
Misery welcome,
And all the things I wanted are the things I am.
Through all the pain, discarded and forgotten,
Between empty cups of coffee,
Half eaten sandwiches and lost words,
All of the things that I wanted are the things that I am.

But wait, says desperation,
You’re not made of things,
You’re made of this
Gorgeous spectacular feeling
Of being a being.
You’re made of star dust
And metal rust,
You’re made of hope and made of trust.
You’re made up empty and I must
Admit that filling the feeling
Was a bust.

lockdown syndrome

oh, what a year this has been,
as if this ocean kept trembling,
moving, shaking,
and i was just this piece in the middle of nowhere,
with no control over other people’s bodies.
their thoughts, their minds,
their hugs and their kisses,
all lost, between my thoughts
and my lack of mind,
between our arms there’s only distance,
and no one is clingy now,
because how can we cling to each other
when all we have is ourselves?
the clocks are static, but the dates keep moving on,
and we’re trying to survive,
we’re trying to keep everyone alive,
and they try to keep their finances alive.
no one knows what they’re doing,
but they do know what we’re doing,
and it’s clear by now that no one is doing the right thing.
the shifts are both massive and small,
just like the ticks and the tocks,
i used to think i have it all,
but what a time to be alive.
i keep hiding behind locks,
transported from bed to desk,
from dreaming of you to a nightmare so grotesque,
where people sneeze on me and hug me.
oh, what a year this has been.

Mess

Fashions come and go,

And it’s like we’re transforming with them.

The denim jackets, the ballet flats, the eyeliner, the expansion of our souls.

Anything can live between the age of 14 and 34,

It feels timeless and wild, while it feels mature and secure.

I wish I could live between those ages,

When most of my learning happened,

Before my sadness settled.

Yes, definitely I wasn’t the happiest,

But clearly I wasn’t the saddest either.

I’ve done so much, and still, I had so much to do still.

Dreams were not out of my reach,

And paths could still be changed,

Anonymity was a thing, while internet was blooming,

Accessing everyone at one push of a button was a legend,

But people were still able to connect.

This whole thing was a mess, a beautiful mess,

Versus what we have now.

I miss the simple times of troubling to connect,

The simple times of troubling to grow,

The simple times of no knowing and going for it.

Deck

The devil is in the details, and I’m the devil now.

And you’re hooked on the details, but not on the devil.

Yet you keep searching, lighting the outside, forgetting about the inside.

And I’m not in your details, and now you’re my devil.

This judgement call brought no temperance, no strength, no magic.

This judgement call has me hanged upside down, and dying.

No justice, no peace, my crystal tower tumbling.

No wisdom, no truth, no hope, but your love is humbling.

I love you, but now how you want it.

I’m what you want, but now how you want it.