I Love Me

I have stopped breaking from the outside
it just causes cracks
shifts happen in the core
and plateaus change
the geography
without anyone knowing
people live happily ever after
and say
that it was meant to be.

My words fumble
when I swallow you in bits
so I gulp you down
give tests, repeat
You ask for 3 words
I say “I am here”
few words have rigid belief
you want complex but
I am forever your simple relief.

I want to bring you the stars
such is my love
but no one wants what they can’t taste
I am bland in my face
and they choose irony
the wisdom of haste
we are but all
the product of our mediocre stakes.

For themselves
they ask myself to define me
how else would they say
that more than you
I love me.

Deep cuts

How deep do you cut without bleeding
and I will call it art
your crimson feathers and stark lurking breath match
the width of blade
which you promised last time you
wont use

what is it you inflict on me for the pain to pass
a whiplash
or the same sweet dread
after red gives you away
and crimson scars turn you beautiful again

My blade
I protect you

and when you convince me of your cowardice
I know you pretend
to be brave
for these nutshells of mines
that you spread across
are just my pilgrims to your sacred heart
so I will reach your shrine to wake you up
and for that moment
that will be the first
and last thing I do for you
and turn to dust
that is all I can take
to make you brave
I can become a scar
the best one for your heart
and you can wear me
pretend like its art.

Walking with Volcanoes

You sit there
humbled
carved
silent
unassociated
like it doesn’t matter
how the ash settled
like you never were burned
under the blossom
there was never a desert
silence speaks
of the things never said
when mountains get tired
people still climb
where do you hide
to stay put
in plain sight
you sit
you belong
where do you walk
how do you go
with that weight
so light
gravitational to the air
the last time you exploded
you kept it all inside
is that how volcanoes die?
and settle to grounds
or they just walk with it
never again to be found

of all the things mountains loose
innocence bothers me the most
people dying to see people
all we find are ghosts.

Black Box

I was looking at you through the black box

thought that was all everyone ever wanted

                     to not be related to their own hands

infinity, then an undone task 

of 1000 possible futures 

relates me to the nonexistent you

and I look at you through the black box 

and my shining eyes 

reflect all white

like when lies

work around for long

feel like they belong

                      and in the potholes cultures cursed 

the saint 

who did not listen

and didn’t let a scum die

there were still a few things 

left 

for both to try.