Microcosm

There's an old man sitting over there,
Playing his heart out on an antiquated accordion,
Retracing the path of his past with his calloused hands
And softening the hearts of many with his tales of hardship.

There's an old lady, on a bench with a blanket,
Muttering small nothings to the shadows that surround her,
Hoping for company, but dreading it as well.
She hums along to the accordion that's been playing in her head.

There's a litre boy tugging at the bottom of a man's shirt

Wavering lips, begging frightened eyes.
I would say he wants to be picked up,
And be propped onto his fathers shoulders,
As he used to do before that winter came.

There's a seventeen year old girl
Standing in the middle of the crossroads
With a backpack hunched on her back
Her tights are ripped, and her makeup is smudged
But her hair remains perfect, glistening in the rain.

There are pieces of dreams scattered down the streets,
Where alleyways conceal nonsense-driven nightmares,
Where the memories of the past mingle with the perceptions of the present.
Where a bookstore on the corner of two forgotten streets
Holds every dusty image anyone has ever laid eyes on.

Pass The Skins

A man resting by the tree,
in the darkness of the shadows and the moon.
A silent rendezvous.
The beat of the bass runs deep
And the lake reflects
the image of two forbidden lovers.
Cigarettes burn through the heart faster.

Deeply dosed and involved
Were we, weren't we, we were.
Highly incandescent icebergs,
Inflammable hearts and forgotten souls.
Homes of the homeless,
Mansions of sinful temptations.
Rolling hard and tumbling slow,
Tired minds breed restless hearts.
We had a supernova between our finger tips.
Jokester of the monarchs,
Guru of the spirits,
Empty spaces and full moons.
There's a naked lady in my swimming pool,
I think she's getting high
Off of her own loneliness...

Sweet sweet child you will be dead soon

The Undoing

Unlock my limits
Uncage my mind
Undo my wrappings
Unwind my heart.
Understand my smile
Underline my meanings
Unbalance my emotions.
Untie my knots
And strip me down.

The idea that we have in our heads, the notion that we've always held: Turned around and switched over.

Oh for fucks sake, what do I have to do ?
The answer is always nothing.
But anxiety gets the best of me
And the need for nothing
Turns into a desire for something.

Ugly spaces
Rotten cores
Dire Destruction
Perhaps life.

I have them too you know?
Non chalantness can only pretend for so long
I have them too
And they're dying to come out
Dying to live.
I think it is somewhat dire
That you had to try to die in order to live.

No one asked for this,
Who would have?
All the internal scrunch
And the mental fuck.
Nobody thought that a feeling
That was meant to mean happiness
In turn would bring bitterness;
A bitterness that clings onto you like a
Leech.

The answer, the means to an end,
Is to pretend.
Feign your smiles
Because no one wants to know
That that constant smile
Can often times be broken;
It is better for them to think
Of eternal sunshine.
than of changing skies.

There's An Old Man...

There's an old man
Sitting beside the shadows
Of his two children.

The children he lost track of,
The children he was snatched away from.

With a blank expression on
His phantom-like face,
He can't fathom
Where he left his keys
Or his home-made accordion.

Where was all the wood
That sculpted his hands,
That in turn
he sculpted with his hands?

Why weren't they talking?
And why are they so young?


They look about ten,
When did the last forty years fly by?

He hums a silent tune
And plays an accordion
Without using any hands.

Did he make the wrong choices?
He feels a nod one each side.


Did he left himself go?
They're nodding.
Why won't they speak?

Inside his head, it was
Always him and his workshop
Him and his music

Him and his accordion
Him and himself.
Maybe being here wasn't too bad
At least it seemed


Like he wasn't alone.
He'd been alone for too long.

ABC's of Nothingness

Another day in the life of a lost soul.
Behind my eyes lies a story of unattainable memories and unreachable ends.
Centuries of nothingness has taught me that some things are only worth giving up on.
Despite the endless attempts to reach the end of the lane, the endless tries to leave behind the land of unwanted serendipities, it was proved impossible for me to leave my state of mind. Everything I did resulted in the most obsolete nothingness; I was in the core of existence, but yet nothing existed.
Friends of mine had once told me that I should always look at the world in a varying light, to avoid losing myself in routine and ennui.
Ghouls took the best of my weaknesses and turned it into the worst.
Had I only been more wary of myself, of my surroundings, of my tendency to disappear, I would perhaps still be here.
I didn't even know what "here" consisted of, or where it was now located.
Jubilantly, one day I decided to stop caring altogether.
Knowledge proved to be weaker than Ignorance, and I found myself ignoring more and more, and hence becoming more and more ignorant.
Lights no longer phased me, I was at the peak of my blased state, I was delving into the realms of pointless imagination.
Maybe it was the imagination that snatched me away that spring evening, under the mist of mountain tops.
Nobody was there to see it; nobody would have noticed either way.
Only my body and I were present; and I believe that that was when I lost my body, somewhere in that hexed, merry mist.
People say that your eyes have to be open to more than just what you see; but what happens when you can see too much?
Queens too are forgotten in the land where I found myself lost.
Recently, I've heard stories of people who are so forgotten, they forget themselves and cease to exist.
Several souls agglomerate here, but within instants most of them forget that they are surrounded by others, mirrors of themselves.
They are blinded by the memories of the unison with their forgotten bodies, memories of motion, of senses, of contact.
United loneliness is the only thing that comes to mind when you become a lost soul.
Vicious tricks of the mind, and if you get too carried away, they will carry you away.
Whenever I try to pull myself closer to what I used to be, I feel myself getting dragged further south, further away from my desires, from my fears, from everything that once made me myself. X-ray vision goggles wouldn't serve me much to look within myself, to find the burnt out flame that used to ignite me.
Years have gone by, and I still haven't moved.
Zephyrs brush past my cage of nothingness, and remind me slightly of what it used to be like to be alive; a cold warming breeze.

Lost

A stranger witnesses a tear born from the eyes of a lost girl.

I keep lost things inside a mirrored box.
They're just never there.

Banging metal
Golden locks
And cherry trees.

Tragedy

Flowers live the most tragic lives.
They die ruthlessly and in numbers,
For the mere captivation of an instant of their beauty.

I Am Not

I'm not a whiteboard,
I'm not yours to erase.

I'm not a story,
I'm not yours to create.

I'm not a pebble,
I won't be tossed and turned.

I'm not a pet,
I won't do as I'm told.

I'm a secret,
So please keep me safe.

I'm a lock,
And I'm giving you my key.

I'm the sea,
And I'm letting you in.

I'm a flower,
But don't rip me apart.

She's A Part Of Your Beautiful Mind

Parachutes and night skies
Spin me into oblivion,
Into figments of imagination
And fragments of you and I.

The sparkle of your soul,
And the twinkle in your eye.
The lucid astro-dreaming,
And the incandescent lights.

You're the sea,
And everytime I open my mouth
To tell you everything you want to hear,
My thoughts are drowned out
And my words are unintelligible.

Time

Fucking Time Man.
I found a way to avoid it.
But it takes two.
And it takes a whole lot more than just two bodies.
It takes two souls and an infinite amount of carefree and imagination.
It's like a fucking race, and I know I said I wouldn't swear but my god, time's running after me and there's nothing I can do because I'm fighting it alone, and so is everyone else.
Everyone is fighting alone, when we could be fighting together, and instead of being destroyed by time, we could destroy it. Temporarily.
If that.
I want, oh what do I want. I want it to stop, I want to fall asleep and live in a world where nothing matters, and everything is livid and lucid.
I sound crazy, but they're just my thoughts. I just want to run away from my body, become someone else, while still keeping parts of me.
There are parts of me that time has used and abused, and now I'm worn out and torn apart. They say that time heals, but it's not true. The soul heals.

He came too close.

picture from Kill Halloween, Swag MTL

May 5th, 2011

All I want to do is close my eyes, and ponder for a while.
I thought it was impossible to close your eyes and see the world, but in truth, it's the only way to truly see it.
The writing poses a problem though.
You can't write with your eyes closed.
You can only think.
I wish I could remember everything I thought and write it down word by word only AFTER having my moment of serenity within my closed eyes.
But the world made it so that nothing can be simple, and not everything can be.
I wish I could be taken away right now, by some sort of magical substance that could make me forget.
Alcohol and drugs are too real, I need something that's untouchable, intangible, unthinkable.
I don't even know how to feel, I'm like the titanic and I'm slowly sinking and I can't stop from being submerged by my own thoughts.
The thoughts that scare me and that scare you.
But all I can do is think, and all I can think about are wishes.
I wish I was swimming out into new seas.
I wish I was a Buddhist, with their ways and wonders.
I wish I was the sky, transparent but tumultuous.
I wish I was you, so I could read you inside out.
I wish
I wish
I wish.
There's too much wishing and not enough reality.
But reality isn't all that great when you come to think about it.
It's an anchor, and I want to fly.
It's hard to get what you want when barriers impose themselves all around and you're suddenly encaged by your proximities.

The Fear Of My Mind

I was driving down a road
That led to nowhere in particular,
Only to some vague destinations
In my mind.

The trees along the road
Were motionless
As I passed them by,
Not a stir, nor a blur.

They say that trees
Are the best at telling time.
But in that moment,
Time stopped counting.

I had packed my luggage,
But left behind my thoughts
And my heart in a box
Under a childhood tree.

"We'll mail them to you
Once you're ready."
Once I'm ready
to forget about them.

It was almost as absurd as
Suggesting to
find a new heart,
and breed new past memories.

It was in my mind that I got lost.
I think I confused it with yours,
For I had gotten so used to
Living inside your head.

You and I were all too similar;
And amidst my confusion,
My loss of sense,
I had only one wish.

I wished nothing else
But to crawl back into the spot
That you saved for me
Deep inside the corners of your mind.

There was a time
When you and I
Were briefly promised
The timed gift of a temporary
Forever.

I had dodged through
fear and attachment,
I had avoided feeling,
Until your feelings crashed into me.

It all came crashing down,
And I wanted to yell
"Listen, I AM afraid!
I'm just as afraid as you are."

But yelling the truth
Would only make the
gash tear apart at the stitches.
I had kept it closed for so long.

Fear is a shadow,
You can forget about it,
But you can never distance
Yourself from it.

My fear was you,
And you feared me too.
But in the most beautiful of ways,
Our fear fueled everything we knew.

Driving down my mind,
I look back at the moment
When you stripped me
down to my core and soul.

My mind's playing tricks,
But I hold onto the instant,
And try to make it last.
If only for a second longer.

Mind Messes

Like puppets on a string,
We play with you.
Till your joints are rusty
And your colors have faded.
Till your heartstrings are worn out
And your heartbeat grows frozen.

Time flies when you're getting drunk

Here's to all the tomorrows of the rest of our lives

photo by Douglas Vogt

I was not offered a blank canvas,
but rather a canvas full of intricate patterns and stars aligned.

image by Douglas Vogt

In Memory of Bisa

When life slips away from one's hands,
We put ours together.
Interlocked.
I should find sorrow in the fact
That such sadness
is the essence of my voice,
But I resort instead to your memories,
And how, through it all,
Your blind happiness was,
and will always be,
The true essence of our hope,
Of our vivacity,
Of our complicity.

The Dream They Built

She wants to wake up
next to him,
smoking a cigarette,
just like Ben and
Mrs. Robinson;
she was quite the
role model.
Stockings and cigarettes
and sex.

She wants to wake up
next to him,
and watch as he wakes;
Or open her eyes
to his eyes on her.

She wants to go now,
And crawl in next to him
And wait for his arms
To crawl around her,
And entrap her.

She wants to go now,
Because she knows
He's awake,
And he's thinking.
And it's always such a wonderful
Thing to watch;
Him thinking his thoughts.

She wants to climb rooftops with him
And get high watching
the stars,
she's grown unfamiliar to them,
they've become hard to find.

She wants to climb rooftops with him
And whisper, just whisper,
Because too much noise could
Destroy
The wonderful dream they built together.

Where do you wander?

Where do you wander
When you
disappear
into the night?
With a pack of cigarettes
Hidden in a pouch
In your purse,
As if we were oblivious
To the smell,
the familiar smell,
of freshly burnt Marlboro lights.

Where do you wander
When you need
To ponder?
Does the darkness take you
Places we cannot?
You don't talk much,
And sometimes silence
is too much
When everyone else
is screaming,
at the top of their lungs,
and you know you've said
too little.

Where do you wander
When you leave us before dinner?
Do you talk to your friends,
the ones I thought we were?
Do you wander down empty
Cul de Sacs
And bump into shadows
of rebellious teenagers?

Where do you wander
When I feel so alone?
Are you waiting for
An answer?
Or are you waiting for
A call?
It's time to come back,
Back to me,
Back for our apology.

Almost

7th March 2011
Writing exercise from www.oneword.com, to the word "almost"
Oh, and by the way... in the end, the almost DID become an Absolutely Definitely Yes. :)

I’m sinking in a sea of "Almosts",
and they’re all gathering around you.
"Almosts" are the walls that surround and separate us.
They block what I want to say, and what I want to feel;
and instead of saying, instead of feeling,
I almost say. I almost feel.
I almost love.
I almost took a step towards you today;
but I paused and thought about the future it implied,
and my desires, and my actions remained an "Almost"
and I sat there wishing, wanting, wishing
that instead of an "Almost,"
it had been an "Absolutely, Definitely, Yes."

Iron Children

7th March 2011
The inspiration is quite obvious, I feel.

The walls vibrated as I waited,
As I put myself into your head,
And heard the cacophony created
By all the words you left unsaid.
...Words I left unsaid.
The irony weighs us down:
We were both quite the talkers
Were we not?
But yet...

Minor Fancies

7th March 2011

backward thoughts

Stirring emotions, spurring passions unbound,
But feelings of emptiness fill up my mind.
Thoughts of you with me are reeling around.
Help me untie, help me undo, help me unbind.

Stopmotion Romance

February 24th 2011

I would replace our silence with kisses
if only I could.
But as the ticking of time presses us forward,
it marks not only the stirring anticipation
of our eyes meeting in a bustling crowd,
but also the sad realization that we
will never be blessed with the gift of Forever.

Welcome.

A little bit of insight and several little lies,
A few unsewn stitches, and plenty broken lines.
A certain bit of truth, but many fantasies.
Read between the lines,
To find what you can't see.

Welcome.