most of the angels avert their gaze
a few stare, their glares embedded
in my bare chest and just one
watches quietly from the corner

what would Judas think about
the scarves? one wrapped around
my wrists and the other around
my eyes with my teeth clenched

my back is arched above the
towel you put on your sheets just
in case. did jesus ever think about
his safeword as he hung on the cross?

‘Do you like that?’ whispers Pontius Pilate
gasping I respond, ‘Yes sir,’

she smiled at me
"we can't do this anymore"
the curtains were drawn
we were left as neglected fetuses
i began cutting my strings one by one
her touch haunted me in my sleep
after tasting the bitter morning
my pale hands delved into my chest
past transgressions reveal yourself
the night came after orange withdrawal
she returned with a silent kiss
we stepped into styrofoam
her passiveness was almost comforting
we shared apricots and drew red lines
into each others' skin.
the peachy morning sun rose
and it all came up in tears
i vomited on my white sheets
in disgust of myself

hills of silent nodding flowers
stealing turpentine kisses under peach trees
pointed lips like butterfly wings
her quiet smile fluttered my heart
rippling rose petals upon clear wax waters
gently tangled together like knotted yellow string
ruffled clothing, hair, flora everywhere
her knowing eyes spoke poetry in my skin
it was then that i decided to live

roses and rain; sitting on the curb

slouched over, neither says a word

sideways cars, lost in thought

forgetful drivers, forget they're lost



and as we drift, the things we miss

look at lonely earth - from their lonely cliff

fall softly, into the soft abyss

forgetting slowly

the things we miss

You say art is alive,
and yet here we are.

Perfectly sculpted,
sure.
Precisely detailed,
of course.
Objects all the same.

Don't you see us looking back?
Gazing into me,
What do you see?

Concepts,
ideas,
philosophies,
reflections.

Reflections.
That's it.
Isn't it?

Wanting me to want you;
needing me to need you.
Holding your hand,
no matter how heavy it gets.

It's tiring,
reminding you what you already know.
Existing for more than your pleasure,
being more than a mirror,
just.. being.

I think it's enough.
No.
I know that it is.
Doubt only creeps in
when you look at me.

I am human.
I am a universe of my own.
When I feel your stare,
why can't you feel mine?
Have you already forgotten?

Your pupils are no blacker than mine,
no less of a lens to see myself in.
Don't you see us looking back!

Every time your eyes meet mine,
I see you.
I simply see you.
It isn't difficult,
nor should it be.

You were right.
Art is alive,
and I am no exception.

Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.