Mental Health, Relationship

Ossuary Sea

Jellyfish spit love
Tinkering with nature
The pleasure geyser from under the frown
Settle for up or down

A friend that failed you;
Once a three headed goddess
merry-go-round
Now she’s restless as a Wolfgang huntress
Chasing a sorrow bit tale
A mad clap ovation to tear down the love summit

Perplexed, when we come back for more harm
When times are good, demanded the sorrow to stay away
Pushy like the river into the sea
Water element, better then the air to breathe

The horizontal bones
sinking bells below,
Out of decadence we all go under, in watery graves tonight
In hope, to awaken in aria’s soul-mist
A great acquiesce, to exist
A perpendicular recovery
In a circulation towards love again

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Earthly voids & Spiritual quest, Mental Health

Nacara

A ghost gaffs in my pearly bones,
to plant a splitting cellular rumor,
You piece of junk.
Burnt out as a string of lights.

At the ledge of my heart,
I sought magnificence of green aventurine, glowing room.
Where a child walked through,
a forest to a beach of silver sands
and sunstone shells.

As that child, I sat gathering seashells.
Preparing to build a bridge to mother’s lunar craters; to be engulfed, in a child’s mind a solacing embrace.
But the dawn always broke with the numbing morning antagonizing,
Youโ€™re too late.

Nowadays, I’m aware of her nature,
as cold and distant. Only a mirror, to the warmth I desired, in my blacken nights.

But I know the spuns of iridescents are still within. And I can burrow in the empty chambers of the furled spiral.
Even if I tip on my side and sink into the depths of a cave in the ocean; my love will never runout, dear.
For some, like me, must contract the fragmented consciousness, to revive back into the ever spinning expansion.

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Mental Health

Under the Channel, resting Solitude

I’m just one little rock,
In your river-bed.
The crowd, a fizzle of flooded bubbles;
To wash you with compliments and cut you deep down in your stoney bed.
Without their fickleness you’d would have forgotten your essence, fashioned as hard and dense, but with soft edges.
For their loving nature, is a constant rushing; destined to remember after we’ve all gone away.

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Mental Health, Mine Na Poems

Torn and Sewn

There’s gotta be
something more
beneath me?
More than this human heart.
I’m petrified at what I’ll find.
Just one little cut underneath
my bags of breath.
What flaws to see?

The deluge of empathy,
To not feel this dread alone,
Of these after-effects.
I know, I try so hard, to disguise.
I still want to be treasure!
To recover with silken weavings of your intricate masterpiece.
But how am I to be sure I deserve your crowning?
I’m meek in my garments of flesh.
And prefer you to see me as a mirage.

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