La Vie en Rose

Tattoo

Why do I see the color of my eyes?

On your skin permanently sunken through

Why do I see my iris?

Penetrating on your hand

Green and brown

Floating into the sky

That’s my butterfly

That’s my dream

It’s on your skin

Forever

It’s on your skin

Til you are gone cold in your grave

It’s on your skin

Forever

It’s on your skin

Til I’m gone cold in my grave

Why do I see the color of my eyes?

When I don’t remember yours

Why do I see my iris?

When I don’t remember your smile

Green and brown

Floating into the sky

That’s my butterfly

That’s my dream

It’s on your skin

Forever

It’s on your skin

Til you are gone cold in your grave

I was not meant for permanent

Forever

I was not meant for permanent

Til I’m gone cold in this grave

Mother of the Universe

I saw you in pain
I saw you challenging the gods of the world
I saw you grimace in midst of agony
I see you smile
I see you happy
I almost forgot
I’m just like you after all

Pity, love, grasping a sense of divine
Holding onto the depths of hurt

Empathy

Consideration
To place my hand on your cheek
To rub every pain away

Pity, love, grasp of the gods
Holding on just to cut the grasp of the gods

City Confusion

To jump out of my own skin
And take a walk down Madison Square Garden
Meet the hobo on the corner of 91st street
Say hello to the pigeons plummeting heaps of snow
Jump, jump, splash through the puddles of water
Which was once pure white snow
What could possibly make me happy again?
Trying to find the powers to reach me higher
Up to the blue sky that has no end
I think I just lost a valuable friend
Strangers, strangers pass midst a train ride of wreck
He speaks foolishly and clasps his hands behind his neck

And all this time I thought of you fondly

Two Halfs

Hold my heart deep inside
Of your strong arms and suffocate
The last breath of resistant crowding these lungs
Kiss my lips passionately
Let the sweet taste fulfill
For you have captivated my mind from harm
Look into my eyes
See the desire hidden under the yellow shade
Of the iris of vulnerability
And as you leave from my nest of love
As you wretch this beating drum of liquor from the depths of a shattered soul
Intertwine the broken pieces with yours
Together it will become one

Pool of the Dead

Embellished in a pool of morning glories

Rise deeper under the ocean sky

Candles lit and shells on sight

Purple curtains cover the pool of a darkened night

On the left a rosary with a cross in half

Into the water of weightless angels

Halos raised towards heaven above heads

Shadows of saintly demons cornered in the back

Sleep into the slumber where the ghostly ghouls lie

Show them the ship of salvation hidden behind

Closed eyes of decaying dust

The blood that tastes of tarnished rust

And skin of tissue taking moments left

Of a journey of burning brown

The soft steady waves do not see how

White Clouds hover in the sky

With various shapes form numerous images

Metaphors lead to abstract ideas

Which stimulates my senses

Ahaha... that sounded very idiotic. But let's face it. How long has it been since I've seen a cloud in the sky? No, I do not live under a continuous shower of rain, however, I don't think I've taken the time to look at the sky anymore. To see the beautiful shapes and wondering what they meant. What symbolic measure clouds had.

When I was younger, I thought clouds opened up into heaven. I believed clouds gave me a glimpse into the after world, especially when a stream of sunshine leaked through the creases.

I often thought clouds were made of cotton candy. On airplanes, I would gaze at the sky outside of the window and pretend I was an angel floating on the clouds. In heaven, I believed we would jump on clouds. That would be our enjoyment, our protection. Clouds offered peace in the midst of constant turbulence.

That's what I thought. Now, I don't want to turn this into a morbid post. I refuse to do that. But innocuous memories seem senseless and absurd and after awhile, they disappear from the surface; only left for the unconscious mind to tread through. Heaps and heaps of disregarded material.

But sometimes, when I uncover old dreams and memories from my childhood, I stop and think, does anyone else do that? Sometimes I have a dreaded gut feeling that I am the only one who would rather enjoy an escape down memory lane, onto the golden road that leads to my imaginary society, located conveniently in my head. Sometimes life is just too dreadful. Mr. Becker said that today, "The sooner you realize life sucks, the better."

Yeah, life doesn't always "suck," but sometimes when I'm faced with unwanted decisions, it can get down right nasty. I am an escapist. It's not healthy, I know it. But sometimes living inside of the brain is more fulfilling than living a lie.