here I lie

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Image courtesy of: Qinni 

when was the last time
I cried?

maybe that is why
words no longer roll off
my impatient tongue
and spill across blank pages
like sunlight adorned with
the oddities of a kaleidoscopic heart.

Instead, I am drowning in debris,
shattered glass and cheap neon beads,
mirror shards reflect my inability

to colour these heavy, broken dreams.

Continue reading “here I lie”

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Drown

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Photography: mxqqy (self)

one day, a lonely boy
builds a dingy raft
out of empty vodka bottles
and sets out to sea, so he
does not have to see
straight, ever again.

he prays for merciless waves to
crash and roar, overwhelm the silence
of strangers on the shore too afraid of
getting their toes wet, he wants to drown out
the whispers of wayward ghosts luring
him into the murky depths of despair.

maybe the wind can carry his listless
body to shore or at worst salt-water can
hug his lungs and sting the open wounds
of his heart like hickeys or lighting,
forecasting the long overdue iris rain.

echo chamber: earth-sized & shell-shaped

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Image courtesy of: transmissiondream

do you remember
when we were younger
and they told us
we could hear the ocean
if we held a sea shell to our ears
as if those lifeless husks
contained some echo of home?

as a naive & introverted child,
my brown spotted conch shell
became one of my most prized possessions
and I spent hours upon hours
at my auditory beach
close my eyes
so the waves
could drown out reality.

well it turns out
they lied to us
like they did about everything else
(faeries, santa, growing up)
and the sea-like sounds we heard
was just our surrounding environment
resonating within the cavity of the shell
I guess you cannot escape reality
only distort it temporarily
google tells me
it’s a cheap trick
replicable with an empty plastic cup
(by holding it up to your ear
or finishing the liquor inside)

Continue reading “echo chamber: earth-sized & shell-shaped”

girl by the sea

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Source

do you remember
the time you cried
as the midnight waves
washed away
her sea foam love
as I tried to drag
your listless body
back to shore?

do you remember
the time vodka and mistakes
ran through my veins
and I clung desperately onto
something, anything
to anchor myself
in this maelstrom of life
and you became
my false sense of security?

because I remember
when you told me
that you were starting to like
the girl who lives by the sea
shy, kind and sweet
salt-stained hair
and sunset cheeks
I guess I stopped listening
when you confessed
that you still yearned
for the mermaid
who didn’t stay,
and that’s when you became
my next mistake.

Continue reading “girl by the sea”

10994

Octopus
Image courtesy of: Dark-Indigo

The Challenger Deep in the Mariana Trench is the deepest known point in Earth’s oceans – 10,994 meters below sea level with an estimated vertical accuracy of ± 40 meters.


I want to be a maelstrom
because it’s difficult
to turn away from a disaster.
Look me in the eye
as I drag you to the murky depths
of somewhere in between
drowning and being free,
tainted flesh and salt water wounds
are easier to touch in the dark,
breathe me in,
before the sunlight slips out of reach.

Can we only find love on the sea floor
because that’s where shadows of desperation
overwhelms sanity?
Watch the rubies spill,
as rock bleeds into rock,
proving that I am broken,
just so you would want me.

As the octopus
wraps itself around my sea-foam heart,
it whispers its melancholy warning –
I am twisted, little one, run away or surrender
and I know I shouldn’t be happy
to give up my autonomy but
in that moment,
I could almost see anglerfish
dancing at the end of the tunnel
in the wake of my supposed destiny.
Neptune,
he did not save me.

Undoubtedly,
humanity
thrives in
maladjustments and oddities
because we are the abandoned children
of the deep sea.

That’s why we soak up pain
and wish upon 
washed up starfish
that we can avoid the same inevitability
and for our agony –
to be special.

491 Days at Sea

© Paolo Domeniconi

we are all
flesh and no soul
built weak
dreaming of going to sea
so the waves
may wash away the minutiae
not so we can ‘find ourselves’
but to just be ourselves
won’t you join me,
before the beckoning of the earth
takes hold?

you see,
the ocean is no place to venture alone
I’ll need you to be there
to steer, paddle or shout –
“Land Ahoy!”
as you run about
distracting us from the starless nights
when we can’t help but wonder
if the moon pulls the tides of fate
or if we’ll have to find our own way
in this cold and empty place

unfortunately,
even those at sea
fear inevitability
that, my love,
includes you and me
one day
the monsters will drag us
to the murky depths of abyss
but right now
our fragile bones
are overcome by the silent song
of the salt-stained breeze
they move
because they know the music of life
and you
are enough of an excuse
for another night
on this rickety boat
even though we’re scared?
we’re here

it was 491 days later
before something shifted in the atmosphere
rolling eyes and loud sighs
displaced indestructible sea floors
sharp tongues like whips
cut masts of pride
torrents of heavy words sunk ships
and a tsunami of sky-high idealisations
couldn’t hide the realisation that
it hurts to love with a washed up heart
darling, it was your voice,
not the endless, breathless siren’s song
that reminded me
both the ocean and tears
were not as beautiful
as I imagined

I suppose adventures
don’t make for smooth sailing
but look, the sun is rising
and if you still dare to
brave the scorching days
and relentless rain
won’t you please
kiss my bruises away
and hold me when phantom pain
haunts the moon-lit night?
the waves are calling,
let’s not keep the ocean waiting.