Wandering the breezes

Lost in the cerulean

Blonde hair bed head sleaze

Sunbeam's spit spattered on green

I spill secrets with the wind

And swim with the tall grasses

Sleeping where life is skinned

Through the cracks and the brasses

Yellow tainted hands

Hand me to mother

Tooth-gap smiles and

a bouquet- make another

Blow me

Braid me

Brew me

Kill me

Now you grow to call me "weed"

A salute of the slums

Wild thug of the treed

A white picket criminal glum

I am the garden's villain

The sunny overkill

Living is my sin

Trespasser on the hill

Am I not enough

When did I become but a seed

You mow me out like scruff

I pray ask, do I not bleed

My white tears spill up to the blue

A forgotten flower by you

I'm an absolute music addict so there's no way I can have a singular favourite. Instead, I decided to choose a song from my fav album + singer!!

Brooklyn Baby - Lana Del Rey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5xcnjAG8pE

Lyrics:

[Intro]

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da

[Verse 1]

They say I'm too young to love you

I don't know what I need

They think I don't understand

The freedom land of the seventies

I think I'm too cool to know ya

You say I'm like the ice, I freeze

I'm churning out novels like

Beat poetry on amphetamines

[Pre-Chorus]

I say

I say

[Chorus]

Well, my boyfriend's in a band

He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed

I've got feathers in my hair

I get down to Beat poetry

And my jazz collection's rare

I can play most anything

I'm a Brooklyn baby

I'm a Brooklyn baby

[Post-Chorus]

Da-da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da-ya-da

Pa-da-da-da-da-da-da

[Verse 2]

They say I'm too young to love you

They say I'm too dumb to sing

They judge me like a picture book

By the colors, like they forgot to read

I think we're like fire and water

I think we're like the wind and sea

You're burning up, I'm cooling down

You're up, I'm down

You're blind, I see

[Pre-Chorus]

But I'm free, ooh

I'm free

[Chorus]

Well, my boyfriend's in a band

He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed

I've got feathers in my hair

I get down to Beat poetry

And my jazz collection's rare

I can play most anything

I'm a Brooklyn baby

I'm a Brooklyn baby

[Bridge]

I'm talking 'bout my generation

I'm talking 'bout my newer nation

And if you don't like it, you can beat it

Beat it, baby

You never liked the way I said it

If you don't get it, then forget

'Cause I don't have to fucking explain it

[Chorus]

And my boyfriend's in a band

He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed

I've got feathers in my hair

I get high on hydroponic weed

And my jazz collection's rare

I get down to Beat poetry

I'm a Brooklyn baby

I'm a Brooklyn baby

[Post-Chorus]

Pa-da-pa-pa, pa-de-da

Te-de-de, da-da-ah

Ooh, oh, woah-ah

[Chorus]

Yeah, my boyfriend's pretty cool

But he's not as cool as me

'Cause I'm a Brooklyn baby

I'm a Brooklyn baby

[Outro]

Pa-da-da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da, baby

Ah-ta-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da, baby

Pa-da-da-da-da-da

Pa-pa-da-pa-da, yeah

Yeah, yeah

My spotify account:

https://open.spotify.com/user/xu99nvqhuzyh5dfd2ztrdvrei?si=41d44ae4a35f4001

the sun drowns into the horizon

I watch it bleed blood-orange

greedy and gripping to the day

against the gravity of celestial porridge

and banal boundless black

the sky weighs a blanket of stones

it's bruising into rotting blues

yet there is art in the aches

awe in the golden hour views

and ataraxia in the two-past-nines

we marvel at this

beguiling beauty

of bittersweet death

I am a stitch in a swatch of people

Hush whispering, wheels rolling, walls humming

The bus's lights glow dozing blue and dull

The liminal sings through rhythmic drumming

A man in dirt-caked cargos strums his bass

A woman wearing cleavage cries quietly

The endless strings of souls I can't amass

An archive of loves and lives lost to me

A bloodless voice from speakers above

A boy flees past the doors onto concrete

Never will I see his worn face hereof

The basses strings simmer beneath my feet

Heavy eyes; brush of a bony shoulder

Listerine and cleat cheese down the corner

<>< <>< <><

sweet slow summers,

shy skittish kisses by the swing set,

picking and skipping rocks by the shifting stream.

the soft petals of callow youth fall silently on oblivious grasses.

time has no patience.

how your bloody clock hands are choking me!

now your summers are begging,

and your kisses are begging,

and the stream is crying and burly.

and i beg of u sweet summer water,

let me swim upstream with the spry scarlet salmon,

through the salty blue pacific,

slip by the frothy currents,

and sleep eternally in silky grey sands of innocence.

Preteen girls on the playground parked on the curb, plucking their dying daisies,

"Does he love me? Does he not?".

It's unfair- let them be me! I sit on the curb of thirteen- sleepless,

"Am I? Aren't I? I can't be!"

My sweat and tears are dipped in misery, "Do I like her? Do I not?".

If god's there why'd he do this to me, "Why me! Why me!"

The 'normal' girls were content; I was dragged unwillingly.

Is my love not worth these daisies?

So now, when I tell you,

"I am."

How dare you tell me,

"You can't."?

Sweet gossamer of socialites,

I've never felt so damn lonely.

A spectator, silent from sights,

Omniscient reality.

Mind out of bounds- six miles in height.

We laugh and share scam smiles of glee!

I talk yet why do I sound mute?

We are imposters in black suits.

The shower is cool,

My head is hot.

My breath is begging,

It wants to wail murder.

Apparently, it's not socially acceptable.

I'll settle for this soft onslaught of water,

This snail trail of bubbles.

I can hardly remember,

What birthed this loathing,

This huddle halted in my throat.

The little baby crying?

The lady yelling?

The lack of parking?

Crap, I've been brooding not bathing.

My water bill.

I need to start lathering.

I snag the soap from the shower sill.

It squirms in my wrinkling fingers,

It smiles in pink suds and slithers out.

Plick.

The knot is rising.

It's sitting at the back of my tongue.

Don't let it out.

I bend down to pick up the soap.

It's sly; it slips again.

Plick.

The knot is at my teeth.

And it's learned a silly trick.

It slips through the cracks of my clenched grinding,

An escaped convict.

My knees hit slick white ceramic.

I silently scream.

Mouth wide open.

The white porcelain walls are watching.

My storms are now scalding.

The cold water isn't helping.

I curl.

I can't tell the tears from the shower- still spraying.

The knot is gone.

To hell with the water bill.

The world is a watercolor spill of bleeding oranges and reds. It reminds me of groggy balmy afternoons in the backseat of our Ford, eyes closed, distant soft chatter, sun in my eyes, cheek burning on the hot window. Except, my eyes are open and my lashes are brushing on cheap cloth. My back aches on gritty concrete. Am I being kidnapped? Sold? Killed? I need to breathe. I let gulps of dusty cool air fill my burning insides. A timid set of thuds surround me till I feel hot breath and something soft and wet under my right eye, viscous liquid spills down my face. I can feel my insides madly battling the air, begging to leave in screams. I begin to thrash against soft binds. Breathe. I can smell the manure, faint copper, and dead grass. I still, as if it would help me smell better, escape better; that's when I smell the faraway scent of overripe cherries and old cigarettes. It was Marilynn's signature scent. She was a sweet nurse far younger than Dad who had just married him three weeks ago- though I wasn't close enough to call her mom, a pact of respect silently stood between us. The memory of her sets off a technicolor hit of dizzy recollections; the Ford, a needle, a quiet moon, shouts, cold fingers on my wrist, and Marilynn wrapping rope on my ankles. As the current situation sinks in, shock, confusion, and horror swims in my head. What the hell are Marilynn's intentions? Where is Dad? Was I wrong about her? Was I about to die? My panicked flurry is interrupted by a needle's prick at my inner elbow. I try to scream, to kick, to flip out in protest- but I'm frozen. Familiar cold fingers slowly untie my blindfold, and the previous orangey-red blur turns into the blinding white sun framed by a barns door. At the center of the light is Marilynn. I can barely recognize her, there is worry painting her face and desperation gripping the corners of her eyes. This was not the face of a criminal. Guilt begins to pool at my belly, perhaps the memories were delusions, perhaps I had misjudged her far too quickly. "Baby, I'm so sorry", her eyes shift downwards. I need to move, to do something, say something, but I stand as a spectator in a body that now feels barely my own. "You're just so perfect, I need you", a heavy breath leaves her mouth, and there's an erratic wildness to her movements. Her eyes dart to the cows who roam in the periphery- absolutely oblivious to my world falling in total disarray. "They- the cows aren't enough, I need your sweetness, your soul. You know... I married Steven just for you." My mind is beginning to fog, was it the confusion or maybe the needle? Marilynn slowly brings up two fingers to the side of my neck, and a whisper escapes her, "Your sweet blood". The previous guilt has been replaced with horror, what nightmare had I arrived in? "I don't want to do this, but you don't want me to die, do you honey, I need you!" The edges of the light are going black, and she throws something to the right of me. She's holding a bottle of mouthwash-she swigs from it violently, "Trust me, it doesn't get any easier every week, I don't want to do this." The world is black. I'm too weak to feel anything. The screams in my throat have died. Hot air spills on the right of my neck, "You won't remember this baby, I'll patch you up perfectly", Marilynn whispers, as if to convince herself. With the piercing puncture of teeth into my flesh, and the assaulting smell of metal- my senses disappear. I'm gone.

A lively forest

Sweet symphonies paint the air

Smooth trills and loud flares

Wild weaves embedded

Amid a stitch of creatures

Massive and midget

Upon a gnarled twig

Hanging on the canopy

Singing melodies