Gone is the Past

I loved you once
But you disappeared,
Vaporous.
If I could only stop time
If I could only stop time,
Alas, I cannot.
Every moment is passing
And I'm weary of it,
I'm tired of time's routine,
I'm tired of memory's photobook.
And no matter
How much I plead,
I doubt time will turn its head
And look back at me
With its pitying eyes,
Whilst holding your hand,
Walking into yesterday.

I miss you...
Published 10th of February.

Snow

I taste of the snowflake
That died on my lips
So cold and lifeless, as if fatigued
After traveling so far a distance
Like the scattering of the phoenix's ashes.
This is no well wrought urn
For kamikaze snowflakes,
Simply an anecdote,
Of my body's warm graveyard
For these pieces of fallen sky.

Indifference

Your dismissive waves and ways
Send me flying to the wall
As if you hit me at full force
And I cower in the corner,
Hoping that the shadows will shield me,
Using darkness to combat yours,
But you walk away, effortlessly,
The fingers from your shadow
Edging closer and closer
I scream and recoil,
But you just keep on walking.

Ghost

My life is the toppled-over glass of water,
Impossible to recollect unless time can be rewound.

I hate this place but I can't leave,
Bounded by a paperless contract of obligation.

I am a broken Magic 8 ball,
My answers have even less meaning.

I am the descending snow mortalized,
Grounded then trampled black by thousands of feet.

Your words are like shit coming out of your intestines,
Fertilizing the pestilent weeds that strangle flowers.

I have become that insensitivity, the absence of
The tingling sensation when hot water runs over cold hands.

A person you deemed worthless
When did I die? I do not know.

Victoria College, Room 101

There are spirits in the room
As the light pours in, illuminating
The floating words from old texts read
The shadows are etched into the walls
From the past, the same youths
Whom with opened doors to their minds
Welcomed the history that swirled
In that same room, and with my own
Opened door and opened chest
I took in the words
Sitting in the same pew-like seats
Smelling the pages of divine writers
Of the past and there is something
Holy and sacred about them,
Knowing that they came from hands
That have created something
Timeless, that lives to this day
And I believe wholly with my being
Sitting in my usual second row seat
That they live in me, as my shadow
Converse with the ones on the walls
Of the present past, and I am comforted
And strangely attracted to this room,
As if I have been there all along,
As if this is where I should be,
As my shadow is etched into the wall.

Waking up early for my 16th Century Poet & Prose class is always worth it.
This room, so historical and nostalgic, makes me feel so... so in awe.
Of all the things that have transpired, all the passage of time, the learning.
I really did see dancing spirits and have one within myself as well.

The False Friend

All those maddening and rabid cells
Are rapidly multiplying, as it spreads
From the site of infection,
The chunk of my life you bit off.
When I looked back on the times
All those seemingly sunny rainy days
I was deceived by my own happiness
Which was not a difficult trick.
As a transparent red screen
Descends before my eyes,
I see with fitful passion
The lifeless you before me, so clearly.
I was blinded by my naivety
To have placed trust in you,
You, a parasite, the most lowly kind,
Feeding on the host until it dies.
And despite my transformation,
Caused by your dirty hands
I will not lose my humanity
Which is permanently absent in you,
I don't want to waste more of my life on you
As I turn my back and walk away,
Letting distance dissociate our link.