IT’S 2 A.M AGAIN, wooohooo.

 

its 2am

i feel interconnected through any vine or snippet of life
perennial inflorescence of any 6 seconds are chimed
the 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 & 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, metamorphing orphan. with a heart full of gears
bleeding gasoline endorphins. pros&cons was the love you pretended to smear
propane huffed outta’ 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.
wasnt enough. contraption malfunction
the sound drowned out. a whisper was like dropping a mountain above it
teardrops were waves, where even a arc wouldnt 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 deceased
you were the cotton in an aspirin, a linen in my attire i wasnt accustom
to go into combat for you with a war-drobe and the cloth that it’s cut from
ungodly. the humdrum. i couldnt 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. are loud
suburban cemetery. not a real burial ground. that’s the imagery
you stole what i had, but now that you did, my souls deep with love
you need so badly what i have, but now i don’t even want
hows it feel to have it? i couldnt sate it but maybe i was deeply depressed
it doesnt diminish my character. but it diminishes you. exposes your WEAKNESS. you werent even a friend
you poked fun at my features, especially crucial to the dent near my nose
which were filled with rain drops from my pupils. there now tears are used as placeholders, for now they’re never exposed
so hastily brash, sorta insane, but with class,
you took the sage and lit ablaze the incense with aroma my nasal could grasp
heart rates out 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 dont 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. miscellanoeus. who? ive never been vindicated cause vindications rude.
ive been to places, you….. couldnt move to. in a million years
walk a mile in my boots..
where bricks from the ceiling and the steel-toe sorta disappears.
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.

its 2am

Published by Cristian Leonardo

Cristian's Cafe. This is my cafe, we have Wi-Fi, but it's not very good. Poetry, Podcasts, Personal Blogging, Research Articles, Open Mic, Comedy, Art. An entire website dedicated to my many forms of expression and happiness.

One thought on “IT’S 2 A.M AGAIN, wooohooo.

Comments, suggestions, or anything that comes to your mind when you read this