Tandem-Trouble

Today her parents ask how her day has been By now the answer has been well rehearsed She insists to them that everything is fine But the reality is the reverse In fact she’s the antonym of the word ‘fine’ Inadequate, unsatisfactory This is due to her creatively cursed mind Steeped in a world of such simplicity Yesterday friends asked how she has been coping Waiting for their turn to talk, do they care? They just see a happy, contented princess Not a pensive, vacant, glazed over stare In fact she’s the opposite of contented Restless and at war with reality Battling feelings of alienation From unsupportive friends and

They tell me I’ll understand when I’m older. That I shouldn’t be an artist. But I want to be those crumpled papers in the corner of my room, and the late nights I stayed awake blinking at the moon. And even though I lack the supplies and ideas are far away, I feel artistic blood running through my veins. I’m that empty spray can left in the shadows of the walls where street art’s been made but the name’s not there at all. And I’m that lonely artist who fears of sticking out because all the art critics feel the urge to not speak, but shout. And I’m that girl standing by the window, staring in, w

I swore I saw angels in Boston that day. When an eight year-old was lying on the ground, his life floating away. A bomb’s explosion is the loudest sound for the ear of a child; he had so much to give. Tree limbs are falling under the heat of the sky. The sun burning brightly, causing the salt behind my lids to make me cry. And the limbs they are scattered with poppies on the ground; a bomb’s explosion must be the loudest sound. For in the meadow, there are limbs from trees. Where I reach, the poppies bleed, for they bleed and grow wherever I may go. And as for the angels, they sit on the poppies below. They come down from the hea

These tears you ripped out of me Form a deep pool that you swim in Laughing spitefully at my misery When will you hold me again? How many more drops of blood Will you squeeze out of me? My body can’t take this pain Let me kiss my children goodbye Haven’t you had enough bloodlust? Don’t you hear the screams of my beloved? Come back to me And heal this broken land I am wasting away Decaying slowly Won’t you save me? Can’t you see me? Please I beg you End this madness Just take my hand We will soar towards the light

The world isn’t as it always seems There are people who are heartless There are those who are careless Well I’m not one of those people The world is a sacred place and cruelty shouldn’t be accepted so lightly Why can’t the world open their eyes to life’s problems The starving children, the poor people struggling to survive, The animals that go through cruelty and abuse, the children who are constantly bullied, This world scares me and I can’t shield my eyes… When will this madness stop? Probably never but I still can’t understand how this world came to be..

You draw a smile across my face, like a child on her first day of school, anxious to impress. You make me happy. Your eyes are crystals of perfection, covered in sparkles of delight, born from inspiration that the universe gets from your existence. You are beautiful. You dress me in happiness, you make my skin glow through the fabric, with the undeniable love I have for your soul. You suit me. You make my heart beat to the sound of your own; it forms a vibration that the sun, sky, and the entire earth can dance to in their sleep. You make me smile. You play my skin like a flesh-bound piano, you hit notes of ecstasy with your fingertips, y

Melancholia cascades down pale peaks, that once supported the weight of smiles. The clear blue skies that gave it birth, damp with reasons, surrender to the urge. Two plump, silky rubies, drown in the salinity of sadness. Grey fabric clouds, abruptly moisten, with the imprint of bedewed defeat.

Shatter me into a million crystal hellos, and a trillion emerald goodbyes. Reduce me to the echoing of a once whisper, upon a rustic, willow trunks ear. Bleed me into a burgundy velvet ocean, drowning a thousand forevers in its never. Tread carefully around me, tiptoe on wishes and desires, step over long lost intimacies, tango with ideas the wind speaks of. Deconstruct me into a flock of incandescent creatures, hovering over hopes and dreams, conducting the orchestra of sensation, tuning the instruments of our melody. Hear me in the deepest of silences, amplify me with infinite wishes, made upon a billion white specks, painted