2 AM Reverie Again: A Journey Through Abstract Emotions

It’s 2 am.

I feel interconnected through any vine or snippet of life,
A perennial inflorescence of any 6 seconds chimed.
Success is a hive, hummingbird wings in slow motion,
Hearing the crickets sing, so monotone yet obscurely composed.
Feels like they’re talking to me, as I walk on the leaves that I cross,
Demure, you’re so provocative, and I’m surely a ghost.

Crunching of autumn is like a skeleton field for tiny trees in the fall,
To possess you is a perfect choice, and you’re as alluring, a host.
Sunbathed petals drowning in jack’o’lanterns of coffee and pumpkin,
Squash the soggy leaves after a beer, underneath the frothy assumptions.

It’s cost me a fortune, ink-jets flew the loss to the profits,
That’s just the cost out of pocket, I wore the pants, but you wore the wallet.
Living a martyr, nose-dive a dotted plane into soil,
Where waves were uncoiled, from the amber gaze, to the point where it boiled.

Hear the ether perform, a duet with 42 degrees and a choir,
Robotic vampire, nothing to do but to sink my teeth into wires.
Mechanical organism, metamorphosing orphan, with a heart full of gears,
Bleeding gasoline endorphins, pros and cons was the love you pretended to smear.

Propane huffed out of my ears, olfactory prose transposing as mutants,
You wrote me off as a human, with me begging you to hear me out. It was ruthless.
Wasn’t enough, contraption malfunction,
The sound drowned out, a whisper was like dropping a mountain above it.
Teardrops were waves, where even an arc wouldn’t suffice,
You took two of each beast that I had, so immediately, I…
Just lost it.

You whittled a soldier out of clay, from the earth a clone was conceived,
With a chisel that was made by the bones of the deceased.
You were the cotton in an aspirin, a linen in my attire I wasn’t accustomed,
To go into combat for you with a wardrobe and the cloth that it’s cut from.
Ungodly, the humdrum, I couldn’t acquire the taste,
You were so tongue-in-cheek with me, I blushed into haste when you asked if I’d want some.

All I want is 5 minutes where we understand each other completely,
Where we aren’t drunk or having sex, sigh, where you just complete me.
Developments real, the buzzing of broken street lights is loud,
A suburban cemetery, not a real burial ground, that’s the imagery.

You stole what I had, but now that you did, my soul’s deep with love,
You need so badly what I have, but now I don’t even want.
How’s it feel to have it? I couldn’t sate it but maybe I was deeply depressed,
It doesn’t diminish my character, but it diminishes you, exposes your weakness, you weren’t even a friend.

You poked fun at my features, especially crucial to the dent near my nose,
Which were filled with raindrops from my pupils. There, now tears are used as placeholders, for now they’re never exposed.

So hastily brash, sort of insane, but with class,
You took the sage and lit ablaze the incense with aroma my nasal could grasp.
Heart rates out of the bag, but a cat caught this lung! Out of breath and out of reach,
A tongue with an abrasive touch, I just wanna say what I wanna say, without the effect of me to stay in this funk.

I don’t even try to be me, I try to be me, but for you, just like me, to see me as something else besides a jaded complexion.
You were into astrology, I read the sign of a Pisces for August 10th and copied it ’cause I knew you would make the connection.

I manipulated myself, but in that, I manipulated you,
All it took was a simple placement of emotion, for you to be the creative ink of my next scintillating muse.
Pixelating, ruse, miscellaneous, who? I’ve never been vindicated ’cause vindication’s rude.
I’ve been to places you… couldn’t move to, in a million years,
Walk a mile in my boots, where bricks from the ceiling and the steel-toe sort of disappear.

Dissipating, pointless, ventilating, poignant, vision-aided moistness,
Where physics plays a joint version of the Bible’s revelations, over and over again.
My wound is opening, fix the sutures, fix my future, remove gauze,
Remove smog, sterilize, feral eyes, then apply the ointment.

It’s 2 am.

Published by Cristian Leonardo Gajardo

Welcome to Cristian’s Cafe, a website where I showcase my various forms of expression and happiness. Here you can find poetry, podcasts, personal blogging, research articles, open mic, comedy, and art. Whether you are looking for inspiration, entertainment, or information, you will find something that suits your taste and mood. Enjoy browsing through my content and feel free to leave your comments and feedback. Please note that the Wi-Fi connection may be slow or unstable at times, so please be patient and look at the art instead. Thank you for visiting Cristian’s Cafe

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