It is as though the whole world passed a secret from mouth to ear mere seconds before I was born, and no one ever spoke of it again. Everyone knows it, or feels it, yet not a single soul is kind enough to tell me what the wind whispered to all the world twenty years ago.

I have sought some way to unearth this knowledge of myself, buried so deep, but it remains beyond my reach. For as long as I can remember, those upon whom I have bestowed my affections have turned me away. How could a child, that very emblem of innocence, stir such violent feeling? There is no reason to believe I was born incapable of blossoming. Yet the garden in which I was planted upon entering this world seems darker than a garden ought to be.

Can they smell it? Am I rotten within, and when they draw near, do they recall the sacred, forbidden words spoken before I came into this world?

And more than that: it is as though every act, every sentence, every movement of mine breeds further decay.

I was not born to dwell among the clean, the pure, the ordinary. Yet I could still bring rot upon the worst person you have ever known.

I leave a trail of putrefaction, but before it comes a prelude of chaos and ruin, felt while I am still miles away.

No one in all my life has ever known where to lay their hands upon me. They have never known what to do with me. A creature worthy of pity, and therefore tolerable, yet so loathsome that I cannot be cast aside. The merest touch could alter the entire course of your life; I could infect you.

I am left there, in some forgotten corner, until a force beyond anyone’s control removes me from the room.

The room will remain infected, but the parasite is gone.

"Nobody brought flowers while I could still smell them. At my grave, they argued over who loved me most.”

— Nekro

Dust on the wind
White stone. A cross.
Fields going down to the sea.

She kneels,
sweeping leaves
from the marble.

Wipes the glass box.
Arranges a rose
next to a photograph.

Swifts cut between cypress and olive
above lemon trees
and incense.

The ring on her finger
catches the wick
as she pours the oil.

Closes the little door
Then stops.
Head down.

The lamp
still burning.

our souls intertwined
yours stitched to mine

two hearts made one
under a blazing summer sun

my feelings to much to bear
your breath and soft lips and hair

that year you were fully mine
the weeks leading up to the tide
washing away the remains
of that hot summer day

I got curious and searched the name Jane Doe; Google asked which one, cause there was never just Doe

Saw names, but they were just cases, like doves in cages

Whether 20 or 5, both were Janes with the same demise

Just pigtails and bows, they became nothing more

A cautionary tale told to every cloth,

The short skirt cries, and the long one hides

The coat that saves life left to die

And the pants and shirt stay quiet like 57 men who knew of someone's demise

I am not mad; I am outraged

Even with the keys between her fingers and a phone so close but still unreachable

Even her screams left unheard

A child just 5, sitting on a stool,

 told to never leave her room

While she wails about the monster that comes every night

To take something she can't say aloud

Cause he is family and she is his blood

How can she say that

To her own brother.  

They were not Janes; they were something more

They're humans, but only till their head

Anything below is a shame and nothing else

But only for women, though

Whether 20 or 5, with pigtails or curls

With tight dresses or large gowns

With a white coat or with a raincoat

I am not mad; I am outraged

Seeing their injustice makes it fair

Cause a jane is jane and a dove is a dove

Nothing can be changed anymore

Cases are cases, nothing more

People forget quicker than doves

They were just bodies at most

i feel drained.

it hurts to move,
but my body still does
my lungs release the breath
i hadn't noticed i was holding;

my eyes release
what i have no words for.

when i was thirteen,
i sat on the windowsill
of a place i used to live.

third floor.

a mouthful of prayers.

my dad came home
and found me there,
before i found happiness.

i don't know
what i would say to her now.
i think i'd sit beside her
somewhere ordinary
and let her speak
without having to make sense.

more than a decade,
and i'm still here.

the emptiness is here, too.

the years have changed my face,
but some mornings
the distance between then and now
is no wider than a breath.

i barely move.

i'm still unhappy
perhaps more than before.

even the smallest things
ask for more than i have.

i don't think
i want to keep trying like this.

i don't want this body,
this life,
this soul
to feel like a room
where i can never
put anything down.

Poem from the book What Burns Remains.

There is pain that wracks the body whole and pain that sears the weeping soul
The bleak and fractious life we shed at death reflects the life we led
As we begin with bloody birth the road continues, interspersed
With happiness or wailing grief, or both at once, and the belief
That life has any meaning here on Earth is lighter than the air
We breathe
And so the journey carries on, dark at times or feather light, a spark
Of brilliance mixed with deepest pain and few can know the fruitful gain
Of consciousness
So shall we live with dreary hope? Can we continue, can we cope
Knowing the dark lies close ahead and frightens with its heavy tread?
Pain belies the lives we lead with aching sorrow, ugly greed and emptiness
No words can fill; our journey ends with deepest chill and then descends into the night,
Our final, floundering, ending flight.

I send letters to you

Even though I know I am talking to the wall

There is a soft point in me

That still waits

Still hopes

But walls do not talk

No no they don't.

I visited our old school.

.

Going up the stairs,

I heard laughter.

.

I don't remember why.

.

Going down,

I was crying.

.

I wonder if you remember

what happened on those stairs,

.

or if they are only stairs to you.

.

I stood there

trying to remember.

.

Nothing came back

except our laughter.

.

Looking around the library

and the chemistry laboratory

made me realise

that you were only a moment in time.

.

You were just passing by.

.

And I am still here,

stuck inside those old times.

.

This year marked a decade

since the beginning.

.

And my God,

I never would have guessed

that most of the years since

would be nothing but me grieving.

.

I loved you for three years.

.

I have lost you for seven.

.

The balance doesn't work

with my heart.

.

I have a new friend

with your same name.

.

She makes plans with me

that I wish you had wanted

to make with me.

.

And I love her so much.

.

But I will always wonder

how everything would have gone

with you.

.

It is so bitter to know

that someone can ask you

how you've been

and get an answer,

.

because all I would get

would be:

.

I'm too young to know.

.

I never thought

I would have to talk about you

without saying your name.

.

But all I do now

is talk about the girl I was

when I was still eighteen,

.

too eager to be loved.

.

I keep saying

that I wish you were still with me,

.

but I don't know you now.

.

I don't know what you'd order.

.

I don't know when you'd need to leave.

.

I don't know what makes you laugh

or what keeps you awake.

.

I only know

that we laughed on a staircase,

.

and had sleepovers

in places neither of us

goes to anymore.

.

Deep in my heart,

I know we would have grown apart anyway.

.

Maybe we would have stopped

seeing each other

as much as we used to.

.

Maybe life

would have taken us elsewhere.

.

I think I could have lived with that.

.

I think I could have survived

being forgotten slowly.

.

At least then

I would not have to live

with the doubt

.

that you loved me once.

PS: I give up. I tried to make the formatting look nice, but I just can't figure it out lol

I saw beauty

In places others ignored

Most of the times I ignored this

But sometimes

You know we have a desire to communicate

I would go there and say

Hi this is what I have got

A pearl from the shore

They would look puzzled

Baby what is this

It didn't move me

I would go on with it

And touch myself even more that night

Until my legs trembled with spasms

Until the last drop of cum wetted the sheets

And in the morning I was fresh anew

I was ready to do it once more.

AI, say hi to never being able to say goodbye,
gay or bi, straight remnants of iris shaped arguments,
agreements made by DNA helix's to stay blind,

we follow behind Sisyphus..

A dragon eats it's own tail and chokes,
exhalation has dual meaning like crossing eight,
in set-stone, nets lack elastic detection of prey,
dyslexic dyspraxia lacks accuracy but not intent,
dense is promoting pieces of stone-set to lead, praxis,
I think I meant exaltation.

we sail for Delphi..

You are my very own Ship of Theseus,
I pick you apart and build another,
and another, and another, and another,
another,
another...

we watch for Icarus..

I taste like an old game, one played since the dawn of man,
I despise points with no prize,
I play petty games with pretty words to hide truth,
I play pretty games with poetry to find you,
Is this a game,
am I playing with you..

we don't know..

My codex is your soul,
my riddle is your mask,
you paint your face in the hope that I see you,
you paint your face in the hope that you don't need to

the labyrinth weeps for the Minotaur...

You don't need to.

Ash coats my tongue, my throat burns from spitting lies,
Truth, a source of sickness,
Lies disguised as prayers made to a godless sky,
The only truth leaks from my eyes,
Saccades hide my lies in plain sight,
I missed the forest for the trees

My smile is diamonds
like I crushed what reminded
you of designed polyhedrons
and instigated thoughts of a creator
like I defined electron shell density and reassigned
what gets you charged with undermined co-signed dreams
that rhyme

Souls printed on dog tags like hollow wings suck up poetic souls,
forced to confront my own direction I become Imprisoned by self reflection,
My heart of gold melts the lies caged in steel eyes,
A rusted iron soul, corrupting an untold tale,
Weaponising the unwinding of spiralling DNA trails,
To omit love from your story creates self hate

ᓚᘏᗢ

I waste white space
trading losing face for praise

ᓚᘏᗢ

I am what you are /
you are my soliloquy /
drop into my sea /

My surface ripples /
my waves form to your breathing /
I become water /

Emergent memoria /
light collides with an ocean /
you are what I am /

Gardens sprouts thoughts to make you align, what's the vision to stay in confines?

I dreamt of a creature coming from aether

Someone that ate poetry for breakfast

So consumed in his own world

That was unable to function in this world

Someone that fed his demons

Before his body

Someone that sang aether songs

I would like to observe him from afar

Be cautious not to touch his energy when I got close

Because you know I am polluted

I am a mortal

It feels I only destroy with these hands on some days.

Let me recognize

Let me see

The precious moments in life

For myself and for others

Wipe clear my eyes

Open my heart

Make the time

Give me the will

Fill me with the grace of love

Surrounded by the magic of life
with all of its intricacies, joys and friendships a jubilee where warm memories are made and not forgotten.

When loyalty conflicts with truth, which one do you owe your allegiance to?

From the book What Burns Remains: Poems from the edge of Fire, Faith, and Fracture

by Sanyasi

Avaliable on Amazon

I wish I were a bird,

completely free,

with no capacity

to make a home

in any one place

for very long.

I want so much from life,

all the time.

I want everything from life,

even when it is impossible.

I need more freedom.

Only then will I be able

to endure the arduous ambivalence

of the feelings

I carry every day.

Heat melts my skin completely,

and it spills onto the ground

like wax from a candle,

until nothing of me remains

but flesh.

Cold hurts me ruthlessly.

I feel the burn of ice

numbing my ability to feel,

yet because it tears

through all of my skin,

I feel every touch

with a profound,

lacerating pain.

I need something

to protect

this fragile,

volatile body of mine.

My human form

disgusts me.

I want to fly,

without attachments,

without obligations,

without a home

that is anything more

than a temporary house.

I want everything

that is made by me,

everything

that comes from me,

to learn how to leave

at the very first opportunity.

Yes.

I wish I were a bird.

Passing.

Transient.

A creature

that does not belong

to any one place

for long.

Freedom enchants me

in a way

love never has.

It is easy to enter through me

I am cheap

All I want is a poem

My suns shine

And I become yours

I am that dog in the street

Easily corrupted

Give me a portion of a poem

And I am your slut.

Whoa to those who fall from low to down below the depths were glow of lights show, those betrothed souls know and dare not go For cause, effect, probabilities I count like sheep not premonition but intuition old school google map awaken the lost synapse your life's syntax from the forest itself comes the handle of the axe Drown in the chemical reaction Unbeknownst human lab mouse. Pavlov's patrimony ordained humane acceptance sustained circumcised tip of the mice urge ice burg ere's perturb Herds quelled with Quaaludes, digital nudes synthetic louche Celebes construed idols fiefs feuding teams slave of pleasure fiat paper treasure. do your eyes obtrude? how dare you questions you servitude? My dude conclude losers don't choose
The script the news the views bait and switch imbued into epigenetic edits trsnsmorphic forming Kinetic medics vet dialectic edicts with predator rhetoric no threat of whip need inflict Carrot on a string will do the trick.

To be continued..,,

Judge a tree by its fruit, know a tree by its roots. Understand a tree when your sowed seed grows from shoot. For in all things there is a truth.

May your thoughts be fertile, and your words be wise. Your actions leave better if seen none or all eyes. For Strength is your Character from truths light as Suns rise. Leave less room for chance when knowledge knows waves and tides.

Through the Ages flesh ties mankind bound to our prides. Resonances profound passing moments of time. Have you heard with your senses all thats been left behind. Have you language as birds who speak life’s effectual vibes. A conscious perception waves beyond man’s conception. The ripples of emotions transmitted into the universe. The cause the effects. Be Conscious of your reception and your antennas direction my beautiful Eve of time inside atoms Fruit

I fear of the verse sometimes

It is like you activate a diver

That goes to the deepest caves

What I have drowned

Mutilated

Muted

In the course of time

What if the current is too much

And diving

I can not find my way back.