wnqwriter Archives - Cristians Café

inept, and upset, it’s like nothing is mentioned.
lifes a run on sentence, interconnecting.
eclectic, electric, im a plug in the wall.
a bit so perplexive. spot the occult in the psalms.
the rejection. a song in the hall of this crazy asylum
straitjacket is off, but I still feel like i’m
binded
abstaining. no hiding. not restrained or assigning
what’s a goon to a goblin–12 noon to this bondage?
loudspeakers.
shouts weaken as I interrupt the connection.
been seasons since I slept at the suns’ dusky consent
grayscale cuts. as lovely as ever
It’s only fear if we love to project it
i’ve learned to accept it, in a functional sense
inflections infecting, it’s so fucking intense
influx of attention. but none to respect
found you by searchingyour pendant glow in the dark on your neck
defunct. so abrupt, you can barely hear it
footsteps like eruptions, each thud becomes searing
unbarring. unnerving, like mummies in pyramids
test love like currents, to conduct an experiment
shave off bucks antlers, concoct my lovers potion in dye
appearing like, serum – you took most of in stride
the locust–conniving, it’s always close to
my spine
blowing smog in my airways like covid arrived
halo spinning on her devil horns, soaking in pride.
denoting my time- unhook your brassiere

absolutely no focus adhered
from shifting gears in a war, now the coast has been cleared
she rode clean on her own horse, barefooted and gorgeous
you read me through your code words:

no feeling remorse
like a fleeting emotion, cleave through divorcing
she march to the beat of her own drums. cheeks are like porcelain
its by gods grace- strawberry-stained bleeding disorder.

the heart beating endorphins
let’s ease up and leave one weekend in greece, white villa is all that we need
cherry stem in her teeth. counting twenty sheeplings to sleep
night time plagued by beehives and wasps, in a treetop that’s neither streamlined nor warped
pero no te preocupas mi amor-
in the morning they’ll be more breezy seaside to waft
sea salt aroma, as sweet as its strong
no siege of despondence, no seething dissolving
just me, and you as a darling, me being charming,

meeting you with resolve
so gather the sky clouds, chain the puzzle piece to my heart
my chéri amor, don’t wait till this dies down
permanent spring, summer breeze, no winter allowed
went from counting to three to running out of fingers to count

i’m sorry

Strawberry Stains and Devil Horns: A Poem of Paradoxical Love

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May 4

Again

I hear footsteps awaken the creaks in the floor Again. Who the fuck’s at the door?
Nightstand machete laid neatly in drawer.
Revolver ‘neath queen mattress, in case of a quarrel-
But- There’s nothing.
Just repentance, contempt, intentions dissolved.
Gunpowder, protein drinks, and penniless thoughts.
Could’ve sworn there was something. Apparently not.
Hear a swarm of bees next to me every dawn before dark.
Borderline manic. Try undoing the damage
Safe spaces fossilize our balloons and our cages
As therapeutic as raindrops on metal roof interchanges.
Bruised inner spaces, perusing the calluses.
Mister aloof and erratic meeting his doomsayer.
How many times are you going to be abusing my patience?
Interactive relations via internal damnation.
Stray further from kinship.
Let’s purge the pervasion.
Starboard to kingship- observe the insane.
Social connection more grandeur than normal distinction
Hormonal response. Formality close to extinction Forming a bond. Cutthroat. Synovial strong
Childhood friends like famous rockstars. So many gone
Kurt, Latore, Shakur, shuffling through on the browser
Normalcy’s paused. Quiet as space. Jupiter’s powder
Going through life thinking, how do I amount? Inner city soul, stained by destitute out-of-towners
With every nuance I learned from human encounters
Too many to count. Too many to counsel
When obstacles are given names like they’re mountains
Who would’ve thought? Who could’ve seen this
My descent towards aloof disregarding
Diluvian shark fin. Hell in a handbasket Downpours start when my umbrella unravels
Distinct as makeshift drum sets in the Big Apple
Phasing out white noise on hierarchical basis
Psychosomatic. Mind warp. Self-actualization
Dwell in differentiation you promptly install in
We’re basic creatures. Basically bombs
Waiting to go off. Waiting to want.
Ticking till doomsday. Can’t wait to disarm me
But Something is wrong when
My Maslow pyramid has 5 entries for love and belonging
Some things prolonged, let the panic begin
To quiet storms to harsh circumstances again
Don’t need you to resolve what I mention
Just put my tears in a mason while you nod in acceptance.

Again.

Again, and Again: A Poem of Repetition and Resignation

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Jan 16

I don’t know what I want,

Whether it’s surface dwelling alone at the swamp
Or an oak in a marsh, soul-searching proverbial want.
We’re more or less spawns of monsters nobody needs,
You were my star-spangled banner, and I was taking a knee.

Subterranean breeze, vitamin pond, still smell your perfume,
Every once in a blue moon, Dahlia Divin creeps in the room.
Black lagoon creature, months of despondent malaise,
Never under the same moon, but always got in your way.

Every constant is change, every constant in chains,
The sheriff to my merits, conversation warranted pain.
Follow the tunnel light or continue to walk among the shade,
Politics, topic delay, boxer on the ropes.

You taught me to love, but to love to be alone,
A hundred teeth sunk in deep, ’til they’re rusting at the bone.
Propaganda-prone, post-traumatic melodic drama,
Copacetic cathartic static, momentary sedative saga.

Mama said to me never mince words with Misses Karma,
Megabit verbiage, sapient alma in the trenches of mock prison,
Velvet and soft linen, cotton henley makeshift pajama,
Couldn’t figure you out…

Kissed crevasses in your skin, you were indifferent about,
You’re awkwardly distant to things that slipped through my mouth.
Look at you now…
Sinatra’s lovers glance, blood-soaked sinful devout,
The untolds dripping, gun smoke cigarette clouds.

Love grows thinner when the sun strokes negligent doubt,
What comes, goes,
Hum low under floorboards

Or they’ll figure us out.
Self-destruct sequence, count to zero with me,
Feel your feelings metamorph like metaphors in the breeze.

I don’t know what I want, I just know what I need,
Better go home before I’m awoken, and I see you,
Full of momentary passes focused entropy seams,
Beams of light bustling through cracks in the stream.

Pockets of time form like globules; we’d skip stones in ravine,
Everything’s too loud even when the volume’s negative three,
Nothing we do can salvage this irreparable dream.

Qué pena me da, que lo tienes sentir,
Shouted at you to leave as I whispered the please.

I Know What I Need: The Quest for Fulfillment Amidst the Turbulent Rapids of Existence, Where Inner Desires Clash with External Realities

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Oct 12

You can hear the
suburban chime, zirconia vertebrae, pearly white spine.
Glass thrown in stone houses, a regular suburban night,
whirring, rewinding. Chronicled childhood in olive drab paint,
monocle glass.
Wormwood and bottles of Shawshank
dissolute solitude. A wanderer who wallows in the maze
en route, delaying for tomorrow, never promised today.
A virgin diary, Anne Frank, Marie Curie disease, a tincture of rainbow,
even if the distance is blurry to me, he who knows the way to Zihuatenejo.
Furloughed father, demanding you to die when I say so,
26 pesos left in your wallet
lint and mothball, Merryland experiment omelette.
Laundromat arcade quarter exchange
2 o’clock shadow of death and follicle strain.
These boulders were supposed to be gone when I got here,
you shouldered me off, Sunday morning penny loafer with frost,
social commentary Gabriel-Lucifer talk,
metamucil retrograde, Jupiter star.
Bolivian roast, oblivion, and a toast goes to Mars,
you hold my hand, but I don’t even know who you are,
shout at me when indoors, but whisper weak when afar.
I’m so close to eroding, skin growth barely a scar,
in my house, the big wolf, lungs pulse ’til exhaustion.
I read a suicide note from the ghost in my closet,
I don’t know if he knows if this apartment is haunted,
by patriarchal pettiness, reminiscent negligent heart,
maleficent maligned, distant and forgotten insidious offspring,
with ammunition in their lips that keep you off guard.
Feel the metacarpal love letters ’til your fingers fall off,
once you step out the door, you hear the wooden creak in the floor.
Fell asleep at the creek daydreaming before,
every time before bed I hear footsteps coming from deep,
and I hide in my closet, until they delete.
REM hits me while I’m counting my sheep
counting rosary beads for every step wolf takes towards me,
like neighborhood freeze tag, counting to three.
Dysfunctional beings huffing in suburban breeze,
I know that I know nothing is in love when I speak,
into denizens, the medicine cabinet creaks,
when you close it and I haven’t heard it in weeks,
from bourbon to curtains burnt at the seams.
I’m so close to being the opposite of perfect, I scream.
What emerges, a bird sits perched in a tree,
what alerts him is the suburban breeze.

Fötter Day Reverie: Suburban Breeze and Whispered Dreams

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Jun 20

We spent an hour alone, watching our eyes meet our lips.
My revolver’s extinct, extinguishing meandering thoughts,
Cradled across indifference, right into addiction,
Deference to malice, rosebud digitalis reborn, a grin.
While I think about things I haven’t before,
Soaked in grimace and gin while I’m singing along,
Philosophers’ physics, you had me at ‘gone,’
Underneath the chasms we nuzzled upon.

Dreamt that you nightmare’d, that I had dissolved,
To the active involvement of our rapid devolving.
I caught you at 12 under the crescent moon of December,
BMW leather, something that you’ll soon remember,
Luminous, lecherous, somehow loosened endeavors,
An uphill battle to oblivion, where passion is glued in forever.
Funny how erratic romances never seem to be better
Than hand in heart, avant-garde fractions remeasured.

You tethered my inaction with half-wit adventures,
Regretted the hand I played once you passed out the deck.
I questioned your motives of why you accepted
My friendship, out of desire or a dying affection.
Like it happened out of nowhere, it’s hard to pretend
That I’m not an infectious disease in dire need of a medic.
I mean, at least that’s what I get out of your attention,
‘Cause the seeds you planted have weeds in them.

Nirvana doesn’t exist in this squander of thought if you aren’t elected.
If the devil wears Prada, it’s because you modeled for them.
This is just misjudgment of honest broads, a cautious indifference,
Treating genuine women with impartial disinterest.
Just a devilish debonair with his cavalier distinction,
The hemisphere changes with its Australis emissions.

So now I stare at the stars, I hate that I’m this,
Paint constellations with apathetic detachment,
Atmospheric phenomenon, in hindsight, it was madness.
So now we wait, wait for the sky to hit limelight
While I cascade into blackness. Damn it.

Skylit Lighthouse: Watching Our Eyes Meet Our Lips

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Mar 22

Tag: wnqwriter

Strawberry Stains and Devil Horns: A Poem of Paradoxical Love

Again, and Again: A Poem of Repetition and Resignation

I Know What I Need: The Quest for Fulfillment Amidst the Turbulent Rapids of Existence, Where Inner Desires Clash with External Realities

Fötter Day Reverie: Suburban Breeze and Whispered Dreams

Skylit Lighthouse: Watching Our Eyes Meet Our Lips