Homage to an Island, Cape Verde

Take me there, when morning breaks
After my eyes open, and my body wakes
To the smell of the sea and the sound of the ocean
And trees as numerous as the sand beneath my feet
Watered by the smiles on the faces of infant children
And songs brought forth on the strings of Spanish guitars
Women in red dresses dancing on crystals sands
Eyes watching hips sway as I drink in the tropics from a tall glass
This is life as it was meant to be: slow, bright, and carefree

Lonely

I stare at four walls, bare
Laying on this bed without a care in the world
Alone, but at peace
Free to peruse my own thoughts, my own feelings
No longer constrained by gregarious thoughts
Detached from my own world
Bold, but afraid
Lonely.

Sunday Afternoon

Today my world is like a long Sunday afternoon
Nothing to do, nowhere to go
In you there is a serene monotony, picturesque in nature
A million words said in silence, a million stories told
A million feelings felt like warm hands intertwined as roots beneath a tree
Motionless, as if in death, there is a connection deeper than life
As all the world’s worries fade away into silent harmony

-unfinished/untitled-

The slip – the tumble – the fall
All results in a fail
From me to you
A constant reminder of my flagrant inadequacies
An inability to do right by you
This inconsiderate youth, blessed with a loyal heart but cursed with wanton hands
Steeped in self-destruction birthed in self-loathed
I remain, your constant misfortune

If, then why

If you are heir to the sky why walk along the earth
Amongst those unfit to draw same breath
Polluting what is,
An unredeemable birthright
In exchange for spoils, which,
As enticing as they may be,
Pale in comparison when weighed against immortality

these hands

These hands will be the death of me
These calloused, unrepentant hands
These vipers with veins that run deep into my soul
These hands that take without giving
Destroy without building
These hands that sit like vultures on a wire
Wretched am I for I cannot control these hands
Or force them to do my bidding
Their strength over-powers my will
Like the hangman’s noose that drags Hyde to hell
Where penance awaits the monster
And those too weak to control emotion and choose to live uninhibited

Game of Hearts

To all who have loved I salute your patience
For man is fickle and cold
His heart is not made for yours to hold
Rather, its design is meant to crumble, like sand, in your hands
While yours, in his, remains
In one piece, or in many
Broken fragments, breathing life into calloused hands
Fighting against all odds to take hold
And escape the thoughtless fall that precedes forgotteness
It is a grim game that hearts play
A battle waged in futility that leaves all scarred who take part
For hearts break even amidst the kindest intentions
And that which one once loved shrivels into obscurity