***art I love, but do not own***
It is in the
fiery synapse between two lovers,
Where a moonbeam waits to explode.
That’s all we are, though isn’t it?
Infinite fractals endlessly expanding.
Past the borders that we have trained our minds to believe in.
A finite reality
But what if our love was more...
What if our love was as sacred
As the arcane pattern to which we belong
What if we were conscious
Of our own eruption
Float with Me
Birds swarm in circles above the landfill
Somewhere, far away the moon sings a song of letting go
And even in the pale blue daylight
Her voice rains down lakes
Like fragile, glistening skin
It's all for something, we keep telling ourselves
It's all for something.
In the concrete, desert streets
In the neon veins of light
Last night, I was a blood cell
On the fire escape
We talked of disease
And what it must feel like
Outside of this skin
Across the street, a morning trumpeter sinks
His teeth into another day
Of mariachi, while babies cry in
The apartment above.
The world is waking up
And somewhere, not very far
From here- a sleepless ocean
Roars in the silent heat.
We climbed to the roof
And found bedsheets and mountains and
We tried falling back asleep
But a fog so thick and sounds of boundless traffic clogs our senses
Angels hide in the sunrise windows
Of buildings, designed to sway
When the earths uneasy stomach churns
And a gentle simmer of sprinklers glistens the palm trees and other plants that just don't belong
I'm leaving this city
I say, in the stillness of my summer breath
I've gotta get some rain for a week
And a familiar pair of desert eyes put on my notorious winter gaze
Like a man, dressed in the wrong clothes
Our gentle fingers traced each other's veins
This skin is just a daydream
Hazy like the smog that settles in our minds
Rain and Stars
I still feel your urban mind sprawled on my sheets
They were just washed
A helicopter pulses and buzzes above our heads
Somewhere in the darkness.
It was 3:30 in the morning and my eyes were open wide
My pupils bled out
Drops of truth teared into the thundercloud room
Then stayed there, suspended, not integrating with
The air like oil in water
Never falling, causing drought in the city
We talked about patterns and shapes
Like kids would, but different.
Above the highway lights,
We glow like stars
Though painfully more aware of our tendency to die
And blind to the planets of life that our light fuels
At first I thought you and I were different
But we’re just two of the same products of some explosion
I don’t know quite what it is I am waiting for,
But it’s getting harder and harder to convince myself that
Stillness, does not always mean a storm is approaching.
The Winter Town (nostalgia for sad times, why?)
I keep thinking of the way it would look
laying on my back,
watching the snow fall, and, fall, and
there in that hypnotic greyness,
I would always forget it was cold
(among other things)
I keep thinking of the way her dad walked into
a smoke-filled party
his daughters eyes on fire as her friends slowly drifted out
I was the last to leave
but I snuck back in that night
we were both afraid
I keep thinking of his snow-covered street
Gliding my car over ice and into the col-de-dac where he lived
I couldn’t wait for the plow trucks to come
He’d cry for the storm that ended as if
It died without a funeral
And the snow didn’t melt for weeks
I’d curse the sky for crying harder than I ever could
When I needed the sun to tan my scars
But I keep thinking of how I moved to the desert
without saying goodbye
To a town I told myself
I’d never fall in love with
On crescent hills, I’d paint myself red
And tell the sunset to try again tomorrow
Because in this city
Beginnings and endings are synonymous
So watch me as I fly around in circles
And pretend I’m going somewhere far away
We sit in my car
And debate going outside
Like always, It’s not about the weather
We just don’t want to be seen, and you
Know exactly what I’m talking about
Our fingers wrestle playfully
In the backseat
We light hemp wicks in fear
And after we’re done, he paints
Himself blue, and hides somewhere in the water
I’d be a similar shade
Santa Monica Vibes
We watch the cars pass
Like animals in the wild
We’re afraid of falling yet we
Hang on the overpass
It always surprises me
How we like to feel human
Manifest (for a film)
They say everything seems perfect from far away
But hardly anything is perfect anymore
I’m told to meet you here, above the city
Not for the concealed, barren world around or even the idea of perfection
But from up here, I can see how fragile it is.
The city is a sheet of glass, delicate like a faulty machine
Clockwork turns somewhere but I wait for your voice
When I hear it, I am reminded of the summer where we sat on the sidewalk
And wondered if it would end faster if we closed our eyes
Or the street we drove on every time I wanted to forget what we were doing
You always told me it would happen anyway.
Your voice has incessantly had that power over me
The first time I heard you speak it was almost as if the feeling of listening to it had already existed somewhere inside me.
I could never tell, even now, if it was from the past or future
This pre-existent feeling.
But I knew it had to mean something, it was important
Every word you said was significant and embedded itself into my veins
I remember the day where you realized it couldn’t end naturally
It was our cosmic duty to manifest the truth in their reality
You told me to pretend it was all a dream
Because everyday we’re made to believe it isn’t
And as my world became less and less vivid
I could finally see what we had to do
Go back. Return it all to Him.
And then, it will be perfect.
At an intoxicated glace,
hair falls from the scalp
clogging the drain, that
illumination no longer flowed through.
But mourning light comes raping his iris
he picks up the cigarette butts
from the garden, and hides them.
He has wondered far too many times
what a mother would say- upon finding
a son no longer able to stand with deteriorated legs
and drink with decaying fingers
fracturing light falls through the muscle as well.
He drives her home that night
the night after
the car does not reach above the speed limit,
so she knows he is crying.
he says, “it’s complicated,”
and she thinks she knows.
But when they embrace-
his scalp gives into her fingertips
the way it gives into water
with the first step out,
he can see the world under a streetlights glow
he wishes, in this moment
that two wings of syringes could take him
far enough to hide
at least till morning,
though lately he could not find safety
in the position of the sun-
as he had previously been able to
his hands were black from someone- or two’s
as he touched her goodbye
and a full moon sunk beneath her surface
creating waves of something
an existence only her organs knew of.
Our Temporary World
Under fire skies, the earths uneasy stomach churns
Many didn’t know the land where we stood
Extended far into his depths
You may say he is troubled, loud and harsh
But if you listen to the life here
A familiar silence can be found
The earth surrounds the sea, and seems
To trap whatever thoughts toss and spin
In the waves.
Many forget his waters eat at the land
Eroding his layers and making a mess
Of the nature we thought was timeless
He does not come in waves, and never
All at once. That’s why we continue
To be surprised whenever things change.
We stood on the cliff, and despite the
Fire in the sky, he turned his face
From the light again
The night began, and we convinced ourselves
Once more, that life stood still here.
And his stomach tossed and turned
As we forced the familiar silence to
Become our temporary world.
I remember it quite well actually
When you told me
That deep in the woods
Hide the creatures, so beautiful
We refuse to believe they exist
Oh, how distant those creatures seemed
How powerless they were then
Until their uncertain existence
Haunted your mind
And their beauty crawled into your skin
How distant they seemed when
Their existence was just an utter
How the mere concept of them
Was so close to becoming our world
But all that mattered
Was your words touching my vulnerable lips
And I thought It mattered
That you were as beautiful
As the creatures you told me about
I thought it mattered
That you didn’t exist
We were young;
crashing parties like
waves and wondering if what we left on shore
was even ours to begin with.
And to those who stayed in our minds for significantly long,
I guess we saw them around.
Some said we were free, we didn't really know.
But when we drove, the earth flew past us.
And the faster we got, the more we felt alone together.
What made us different from all the rest was the fact that we were human.
Most people were too busy being other things
that they forgot what being human meant.
We were people,
We were real.
We weren't crazy, we just felt everything.
Things tended to begin and end quickly for us.
All the people, the places.
They all fell upon us.
We loved stronger than anyone else,
and when we were broken, we disassembled
but it felt good. We fought.
We laughed. We lived.
We savored it all, because when it was over
we knew all that we felt was proof that we were alive.
We were free.
I've now watched the days turn into Eachother more often than not.
And by now, everything in between became a story.
It was all so real-it was so beautiful.
Most of us drifted apart.
And a lot of what my life was then is over.
But the stories we wrote with our ability to feel unconditionally will exist forever.
And consequently, so will we.
Morning light, I try to
Observe as much as possible
Until today begins.
Ripe summer air
Never reminds me of
It, so I wake up early
Needing another sunrise;
Gods only gift lately
Oblivion (Sapphic Ode)
You and I, we stretch into oblivion
one day we fell together, still not nothing
and with abysmal tendencies, bodies sank down
down without your void
Wild with intrepid spaces, we were the abyss
fought our light back up, up to the summit where a
landslide illuminated our collapse back
it was always cyclical
now, oblivion settles, like the fog after night
fight to silence, drive the sun upwards
many forget earth was once believed to have an edge
that was our abyss
As the sun rises,
Drenched in a pink
Metal City drinks the light
And floats, In a familiar haze
As the moon rises,
Somewhere on this dark world there is a cluster of stars
A silent city, sprawled in color like electric cosmos
A sea of lights
Somewhere, steeped in the endless heat
The Sea, I drown
But underwater in this nautical desert
I see, I swim
And to me, it feels like flying
Breathing In (early adolescence)
The smell of a late summer night masks the smell of maggots and rotting grapes.
It sort of smells like freedom
Under a dim streetlight, I’m breathing in the remnants of an ephemeral summer.
Each season is constantly recovering from the last,
And preparing for the next.
I’m breathing in a night spent talking
I’m breathing out a 47% chance of snow
The protective era of early autumn is well upon us now
It will not prepare us for an apathetic winter.
I met you in autumn.
I memorized the way your mouth formulated the words you said in a given moment, if any were prominent
I counted the times my mind wandered to a summer where you did not exist.
My blood clotted where conjured nostalgia ran through my veins like water and
I imagined you and I on a beach:
Daylight would be fading from our mid-summer bored hearts and
Shallow eyes would watch fireworks light up the coast
You would say, “It looks like the end of the world”
I would say, “That’s strange, I didn’t think the end of the world would be this silent”
I didn’t think the end of the world would feel this free.
When the earth’s axis tilts towards the sun
I attempt to fathom all you ever were
I breathe in a memory of cold skin and goosebumps that hasn’t even happened
I try to understand everything you ever were
I’m breathing in the sound of a pop song we liked playing while
Icy roads fly past us like cars on a back road
I’m breathing in everything you haven’t said to me in one single moment
And I suffocate
Seasons don’t stop for anyone
Summer nights grow cold and midnight walks become impossible.
The absence of snow breaks our bones and April forces a recovery
Memories of February threaten departure when June transpires
And October feels like a dream I must have forgotten
I met you in autumn
After 4 seasons of inhaling the entire english language
I’ve found September in your recollection of my vulgarity
And summer nights conclude
Beneath storm clouds, we sailed in the rain
Reasoning with the stars to convince us they're still in their domain
In the unfamiliar place, we fell asleep with paint on our face
Only imprints on pillows know who we were that night
It seems as though an entire ocean now exists between here and where we started
But as always, the sea storm clouds parted
And when our celestial map began to shine back through
I heard your voice sing over and over;
"I'll love you, till the stars go blue"
I’m A Volcano (Slam)
Someone who loved me, once told me I remind them of a Volcano.
I said, “Why?”
Volcanoes are like an eruption waiting to happen
They symbolize destruction, itching to release their passion all over a screaming village
So what makes me a f***ing volcano?
They said, “Exactly.”
Just kidding, heh.
They said volcanoes are like “love”.
Because love is fire;
Destructive and beautiful
And it gets you higher, than any drug
And they said they’re veins have been craving for me to erupt
Like the flowers all need for the sun to come up
But unlike the sun, a fire warms our bodies and minds in a way that blinds
Not our eyes like the sun in the skies, but the fires of love feel so good, that we forget
It is to burn.
After all, the sun up there is just a big ball of fire itself too,
I mean, you can’t look at the view, but
It’s that fire that keeps us alive
The same fire that could kill us
So it’s lethal love that helps us survive
To that I said... okay. But enough philosophical sh*t.
Why’d you call me a volcano
I get it, loves deceitful… like cocaine-o
But this isn’t a poem
And I’m not a drug, so can you speak a little clearer to me?
Let’s forget about the volcano
and the fact that I just erupted on you again
I tend to do that, sometimes
It’s just that I have this vulnerability issue...and I don’t like to feel weak
Because when I look in the mirror that’s what I critique
I mean we all have that little voice in our heads that sometimes screams “I wish you were dead”
I don’t wish I was dead. I just wish I was a little bit different sometimes
But you know what, there’s something everyone would love to change about themselves
Something we like to keep hidden up on our shelves
Something we avoid or just, forget about
Until you’re staying up into the wee hours of the night
Searching for some kind of light that won’t shine on that one thing about you
That keeps us subdued
Until I’m chewed
And I go crazy
And start to corrode
And I explode.
I guess I am
And I don’t love you...back, I said
Because I don’t embrace my vulnerability!
I like to keep my instability
Hidden, in a dark room at 2 a.m.
Like a volcano amidst a dozen mountains
A secret, waiting to erupt
Then, they said to me
Your fire is. Beautiful. It’s you.
And it keeps me awake at night
Like when I flood my veins with caffeine
Just let yourself be seen
I get that you don't want me to shine my light on something you'd do without
But you're a volcano
And when you let it all out. I’ll love you, till your ash fills the atmosphere
The world may not clear after
And it could start something similar to a nuclear winter
But what’s the use in keeping it inside?
If you're a volcano, let yourself erupt.
The earth has already survived, an ice age.
***all poems by Max Galassi***