I was born before you were ready Before your back stretched out in pleasure underneath clouds of warmth against your skin Before you had a chance to breathe in deeply of this day's journey to catch first light.
I was born before you were ready I cracked and slowly oozed out of my porcelain walls, hidden behind freckled sandy paper.
I cringed at the feel of flames beneath my skin filling the air with lust and calling those nearby to draw closer, cautiously, earnestly.
I smoked immensely and made those weary of my pulsating body, full of life, sweet but bitter at first touch to awaken.
I was born before you were ready — for breakfast.
They said god laid in his hands. The way brushstrokes followed, Led by invisible string, Colors escaping onto a white canvas. God's hair never looked so beautiful, As it did now.
Ripples surfaced Beneath a sea of white, A sea of solitude, Peace in a time of chaos, Ruptured throughout and thoroughly, (As if this was the last...) As present time passed, Because this was it, This was life.
Brushed on white, On browns, On blues, On hues, Of new. They said this, This, was the color of you.
In hopes of forgetting, In hopes of escaping, I was born before yesterday But news caught up to me, a reality staring directly at me, whether or not if I was ready.
I was born before yesterday trying to start fresh but old habits, reincarnated, my bubble burst. I tried again.
Born before yesterday it was just like a dream, thought they would forget me but here they come, chasing me through the streets yelling about some deception of my myriad confessions Breaking backs to cross unknown territories. No time to relax.
They were born before yesterday, it felt just like a dream, before reality screamed.
Wondering, "why, god, did they pick me?".
I was born before yesterday, in hopes of forgetting, in hopes of escaping, but reality stared directly at me, repulsively.
Never forgetting my foreign country.
We learned to seek refuge in others instead of ourselves
Our youth, wasted on others,
We clothed ourselves in saffron
in search of
truth and faith,
a lovely face.
an amazing grace,
we'll never forget.
Our pilgrimage to another place,
from our family and friends.
Our fingertips touched
with the notion to forget.
We asked god for forgiveness,
for time was our constant,
shown only in our hands and faces.
Our bones shook
and our blood curdled,
over cold bedsheets.
With a conscious so heavy
searching for peace.
is a movement to escape.
Trying something new with a friend on Medium
Only the mad men laugh. They wouldn't be here otherwise.
Cursing the passing time
breathing in dim lights.
Pounding at my doorstep
bursting with life.
An obsession, only at night.
the world asleep,
the world is mine.