Sketching Parallels to the Universe

Maybe in an alternate universe

An atmosphere exists where fresh

Air moves inside out, smoke particulates

Are replaced with dandelions,

Dandelions remain metaphoric

To beauty, and beauty resonates

With the calm of the ocean during day.

There may exist this universe where

I’m breathing, but I choose not to

Wander off to that other side.

I stay here, with oxygen supporting 

My lungs, and ash spilled beyond the

Brim for I no longer bother to 

Empty the ashtray; 

Feeling as though with every passing 

Second the world is closing in on me,

Just by a millimetre more. Yet,

Despite disturbances inside the fissures

On my skin, I have made peace with 

The sun, aligned perpendicular to 

The highest measurable altitude, by man,

Reflecting back light onto me

Through the moon; the tides 

Inside my ribs beating and

Fluctuating.

reversible procedures

Unsynchronized tunes from a

Requiem of banjos and bagpipes 

Echo through her skin, itching 

Inches along the curves of her body,

As melancholy imposter parasites at

Her voluntary joints. Effortlessly,

the setting sun and thrust of waves 

Inject back to her bones, a consonance 

Amongst beauty, symphony and lost time.

Indicate

You wake up
In the morning
With your naked
Skin draped
In mud,
Which subtly envelopes
Your wounds.
Numb; you choose
To linger back to
The cause everyday.
He.

Until one day you see
The ray of light,
The slightest of itself,
Beaming from
Somewhere behind, behind
His colourless aura.
And that’s when you know.
The sun means for you
To grow out.
The mud means for you
To break free.
Outdo yourself.