Open Maps

10/Nov/2016

3.16

I’m not supposed to fall in love with distance.
I’m supposed to fall in love with the esoterics;
Like spirits, soul, and spiderwebs.
I’m supposed to fall in love with warm bodies, and
Presence and
Beds, unmade.

But instead I fell in love with concepts, and weather,
And roads, and plane tickets.
The untouchable beings, and limits.
I fell in love with tangled hair, and voices from far left, and
Memories and
Clean roots.

I fell in love with how your voice echoing
Attack inside my head
And not caressing embrace
To my closed hands.

Room 511

05/11/2016/Sat
07.32

Ten days ago, you mumbled that it's hard to swallow the fact that I'm not as warm as your Moroccan sunset.
Not as pure as your Icelandic snow, not as delicate as your,
Your Alaskan home.
But your gaze is still locked against my neck, hands on my lungs, whispering syllables, ruining colours.
And you haven't stopped popping your thin skin infront of my teeth because you think I'm a monster in heat.
Even when I'm holding crosses close to my throat and reading you finest words about jewels and rhinestones;
You still think that my time with you is a battleground, yet you don't want to go to war.
But suddenly you whispered that the moment is here, that we should go until violence disappears just because your don't want to fall asleep to the sound of destruction infront of your door.
You lingered in my arms saying that it was the first time for you to dig graves and throwing fireworks, but it felt like like you're a funeral director ready to excavate Egyptian charms from my casket.
You, you brought me back to July where you drew lines between my eyes and told me that it's not alright to dig the ground before you're ready to die.
Tell that to the sunrise who watched us slowly falling to the flame of nirvana, baptised by the sweet holy water of hell. Tell that to yourself when you told me that our home is a paradise whose skies were the colour of hell flames as if I didn't know who you were referring to.
As mad as I am, the sun is still up and I don't want to go out, cause for the first time in my life, everything feels right.

Let's do it all over again.

On Destruction

11/04/2016
09:04

So you're paving your man-made holy name through concealed obscenity, violence, and bomb drops.

Reciting verses from the green book, cursing acid, praising your Lord in foreign languages, screaming peace while burning bridges.

Tell me what kind of Saint are you?

You come in handy, fifty thousand is not many, the tip of your fingers are burning in rage while you rip open your modest jewelry and show the nakedness of your misleading agony.

Your faux prayers are still echoing through cables and signals.
Screeching through tear gases and teardrops.
Asking us, sinners, to destruct ourselves, bleed to death, and oh does it feel good to hurt each other?

You told me that you're defending God. You told me that it's not okay to dismember his words.

But I found God riding shotgun in my dirty car. Smoking cigarettes, killing time, leaving scars.
In his blue jeans and piercing eyes he exhales peppermint smoke to the sky.
"They're wasting their time"

411

Begotten

6/21/2016

It’s half past dawn, and I still linger on your left side of the bed.
With face down, as I inhale your breath deep into my blood stream.
And I chant a prayer on to your cheek, wishing for you to stay in your sheet.
Weekend calls. White light falls. Ten hours after our evening strolls.
Stop mumbling lullabies, there are waterlilies floating on your swimming pool eyes.
Exhilarating marks on your backbone resemble the sound of July.
Summertime dew, polluted charms, don’t keep me away from your one night arms.
Half past brunch, no last name, maybe I’ll keep you in the back of my vein.

Precipitation

26/June/2016
8:28 PM

I understand rainy night,
I know it so well that I refuse to sleep just to listen to their words.
They told me about your hickory eyes flickered with city lights,
Your flustered cheeks underneath the sheets,
Mouth snapped shut, trapping everyone in silence against the porpoise skies.

I understand 2am cold spell,
Where her breeze chills your dimly lit face,
Causing dalliance to whoever peeks through the night.
She’s the one that will pulls delusion across my warmer ground.

I understand drizzling dawn,
The way it streams down a lonely light post,
Leading your ecstatic murmur to my begotten scars.
Weaving warmth across my thundering arms.
And stay, until dreamers decided to pray.

Lady in Red

The lady in red dress chooses her own way
She crosses the main road of Jakarta in subtle smile and a reign of doubts
Purse in hand, cigarette in the back of her tongue,
She pursues her choice head first with her feet underground
A herd of people waiting behind her, signaling fear and screaming loneliness.
"How does one stops time effortlessly?" 
She brushes her shoulder as they smolder underneath a flyover.
She doesn't care what the future holds for her.

I don't know

1/June/2016

Lovers came in August
August came right before summer
With blooming gaze and contagious lies
Showering lights throughout the windowsills.
I have a habit of repeating vowels and words that are not my own.
Slicing time, and knitting lines.
You don't seem to care at all.
With sun lit smile, and wintering eyes, you managed not to crumble and fall right before the walls.
Surrounded by lights and meteorites, you decided that summer is not for you at all.
You twist and tie our luck like our previous lovers.
Getting lost in ashy past and rusty cries.
With tightened rope and unknown facts, you've trapped me inside your mind.

Strange Lovers in New York

Tuesday
07/05/2015

I only speak vowels,
And you hum future tenses.
Twelve hours away, concrete underground.
There's a song stuck in the back of your head.
You have your knees toasted in the heat of Manhattan, and I have fried my elbows in the peak of local trails.
Rediscovering senses in the blooming heart of past lovers;
Tweaking sonnets and stitching contemporary treats.
None of their exhibits matches your staircase beats.
Estranged roles and Brooklyn roads.
My fingers are buried in your twisted curls.