the outer edges of the moon

The moon, barely a crescent, 
Hangs
by my bed and waits
for slumber to drown me 
in vivid visions

it dips itself in nighttime
as I stir in my sleep,
turning my mattress into an ocean
Night sweats: 
a result of running for years 
from monsters in my sleep.

it comes out almost full, 
filling the night with its aura 
but all I see is the outline of its dark side 
I know it’s what chases me when
my eyelids give up the fight
and drift off into the grip of my mind. 
surrendering to the stillness of dawn

invisible men

when I was a child, 
I always saw women on street corners 
with children piling up on their bodies,
a newborn every other day 
and I always asked myself where the fathers were 
they must not have gotten far 
the infant has not crawled yet 

I always wondered how 
these women were impregnated 
and where the fathers were 

were there men hiding in the night 
leaving babies in the wombs of women 
as they pushed themselves 
in and out of their bodies? 

I wondered if I ever saw them 
wandering the streets in day time 
avoiding the corners in which 
the children they left behind 
hid from the scorching sun. 

the sun was not as kind to everyone 
as it was to me.

written from a dancefloor after a cup of cacao

• I write to you from the ground, my bare feet stained with the specs of dust left behind by the feet of many I have not spoken to. Oriental music is playing, mixed by a woman who goes by Winnie. A man sits parallel to me, his thighs folded on his lower legs as if his prayer is coming to an end. he speaks to himself. a girl steps on my foot, interrupting my observation. minutes later, i still feel the weight of her body on my left foot. another man makes me want to burst into uncontrollable laughter every time my eye catches him. but something tells me that would be mistaken for rudeness. another girl steps on my right foot and now i have the weight of two dancing girls on my body. one feels lighter than the other, i see why when i watch her move with ease. i wish i could focus on every individual dancing in their own universe, but the weight on my feet distracts me. the funny man frowns. he laughs. he smiles. he looks angry. then he gets confused. he runs he sits he lets it all out. they all move their pain into expression, their limbs into canvases exploding with colours my eyes hardly recognize, sculptures of the endless possibility of the human form. a little boy with hair to his elbows flosses behind his mom as she converses with the attractive man i can’t get myself to say hello to.

a dream

I dreamt that rainbow clouds were twisting
and turning, folding in like giant waves
on the blue ocean of the fourth sky
outside my window, I stood there
and felt the magic as I stared out
into the distance at the Jerusalem dome
that somehow traveled nine thousand three hundred
and sixteen miles to find itself outside my window.

////

There is an immense emptiness that occupies me,
Which can only be filled with smoke
Smoke from the burning of wood
Smoke from the smudging of sage
Smoke entering my lungs 
filling them with substances 
to numb me to my core
 
And the smell of it all
 
My eyes grow weak
My hands go numb
My fingers fall at the edges

my pinky drifts off into the stillness
 
I wait for my tea.

the taste of blue

the sky fills me up with blue, 
tucking it under the lump in my throat
I cannot swallow. 

I sneeze out clouds 
that leave no gaps
in the ceiling of my vision.
I squint, and in the distance, 
a colour i cannot name
stares at me, unattainable. 

the plastic flower moves itself slightly,
inanimate object, fooling me 
with hopes of sunshine. 

I blame it on the absence of the moon, 
a companion whose face
no longer roams
the shores of my memories.

black&blue

I'm tired of comparing pains, 
of showing off bruises 
and tracing scars with shaking fingers.

I let my weight fall as I wrap myself around you
and let you enter my body 
to take me back to better days.

you tell me I've disappeared and trace your fingers 
on the bones bulging out of my breaking skin.

You tell me I'm yours
But disappear into the day as you exit my body, 
and walk back into your paranoid soul. 

You tell me you love me and I see sincerity in your eyes, 
but your tone betrays your words. 
And I ask you why you're lying.  

You tell me nothing is permanent 
but time is slipping away 
and my arms are growing weak fighting it's hands.

??

There’s a layer of numbness attached to every emotion I have, a thin fabric separating it from my being, I can feel moved to the bone by the immensity of something, yet feel slightly unmoved by it, recognizing how separate that thing and myself are. Sometimes the filing system in my mind breaks down and I find memories mixed up with dreams, becoming completely unaware of my own reliability in recalling an event. The way I remember memories is as if they are separate from me. The memories of a child I left behind in a city far from here. She walks parallel to me like a distant memory. So distant, we walk beside each other, but our paths never cross. The memory never feels like it is mine no matter how strong the emotions it fills me up with are. 

passion projects/not lovers

one after the other
is this about me, they ask
not necessarily, I say
they visit my blog to read about themselves
I go from hurt to inflicter of pain