Glass Coffee

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[azraelazalea]

i can feel the static in my brain, the frequency that rakes through any coherent thought and leaves a fragmented jumble of words behind. through the fog i can catch the glimpse of a face, or a memory, or the math equation that i’m supposed to be remembering. i can hear the hum of the radiator, and the buzz of the light above, and the mourning electric guitar from the song that’s been clinging to the walls in my head. it’s my birthday, and a major one at that. a major age. a milestone. an age where i can’t really pretend to be a kid anymore.

birthdays are supposed to be happy, celebrating your coming to this earth, and celebrating who you are as a person. but who am i, really? what have i accomplished? i can remember in just the past year how i truly believed i wouldn’t make it to this day, how the sand i had been treading in finally felt like it was dragging me down — that is, until a firm hand clamped on my forearm. and then, another on my wrist. i hate being grabbed by my wrist. but it felt comforting this time. someone, something pulled me to my feet and planted me on the ground again.

i saw the soft eyes of a little girl, who looked at me in confusion. i tilted my head, and so did she. we pressed our palms together and i folded my arms around her, in a completely enveloping hug. we sat down right there in the sand, and we talked for what must have been hours — about her life, about mine, about all the time in between. she was so concerned about her problems, but i assured her that these problems would certainly go away before she knew it. and then she listened to mine, to me pouring my heart out about every little thing that a little girl, a little lamb, shouldn’t be forced to learn about. still, she listened, and i commanded her, and yet the love she held in her gaze never stopped.

you’re amazing. that was all she said, and that was all that stopped me completely in my tracks. that static dissolved for a moment, and i reached out and cupped the cheek of a memory. this was all she ever wanted. she got all she ever wanted. and that was precisely what was horrible about it. if this is the beautiful future she dreamed of, why was it still not enough? and why was it fundamentally wrong?

the answer lies in not the destination, but the journey. this isn’t a single-stop move. this is a road trip, filled with nights laying away in a cramped sedan backseat after landing in a small road-side town that sleeps at 8 pm. it’s filled with flat tires and exhausting marathon drives and hills that make you wonder if the car really can get over. but it also includes stops like breathtaking views of mountains and people you meet at crappy gas stations and night skies of endless stars. and when you get to wherever it is you think you’re going, you lay there a moment, and then you continue on on the next trip. that’s all there is to it.

and it need not be terrifying. if not for the thrill of the unknown, what would we have to live for? if the journey shapes who you are, within it, are you anybody? then, if you took the journey, mustn’t it be true that you are truly somebody, someone unique who is a byproduct of the people you meet and the sights you see?

that little girl wanted so much. she thought that she would be happy once she got here, and that would be all. of course, she had no idea how many new problems would arise standing here, toes planted in the sand. yet, she made this journey, didn’t she? she fulfilled her aspirations, and she became a stronger adventurer. if she made this journey, she can make any.

i take a look, and see that she moves closer to the quicksand, as i step away towards unknown ground. she must fall as i did. she must.

as i turn my back to her, i am fully aware of every particle of sand on my body, and how it sinks into every part of me unrelentingly. i cannot exist without it, and it without me. my next step falls a little deeper into the ground. as the shadow of a figure crawls over me, the static begins once more.

[azraelazalea]

am I just a floating gaze?

amethyst / lavender haze

pretty pretty pink peonies

my birds and your bees

whistling melody

please, leave me be

dream-like daze

lust for your praise

crystallized water

naked body, slaughtered

caress. undress. you first. i rest.

[azraelazalea]

She was right

And I teased her for wanting

To fit in. Shutting out

Her comments and belittling her.

We laughed

At her not knowing or for

Trying her best to love

Me for me.

And I couldn’t love her

For her. She is silenced

By my ignorance and

Drowning dissonance.

I wish I could console

Her and tell her I see her.

And slowly I think

I am becoming my mother.

[azraelazalea]

Red Silk

The tender grasp of your arms

Shadows of the night

The warmth of your gentle palms

Fire breathed to life

Swaying in our wretched waltz

There’s nothing to fear

Tracing your face—earthquake faults

Swallow me, my dear

The call of sirens drawn to us

Crimes we did commit

Under moonlight as we lust

Fate sealed with a kiss

Tied down in our silver chains

Tonight I have killed

Sold out by your lipstick stains and

Beautiful red silk

[azraelazalea]

Types of Love, Pt. 1

Silky and soft is your hair

Brushing against your forehead and my lips

I can see in your heart the tear

That I ripped through you with a kiss

Bring your melody to life

The sound in my ears like honey

I hate all the reasons we fight

Your heart beneath me, so steady

Let me lay on your belly

Your hands surrounding mine

Without you I feel so empty

As we’ve seen every time

So tame me, maim me, cruelly shame me

Make me scream, visit my dreams

I’ll be here and I’ll never leave

So for now, my darling, go to sleep

[azraelazalea]

The Train

The train doesn’t know who you are, or what you do, or where you come from, or where you’ll go

The train knows where it starts–the very north, and where it ends, in the south

If you’re lucky, you won’t let your guard down for a moment and slip into a deep slumber, only to wake up by the sea! 

Every single person on the train has their own life; they all have somewhere they’re headed and their own stories unfolded behind them

They all have their own mindsets and views and passions and they’re all so very diverse

I have been in pursuit of knowledge, for my whole life as an aging youth

I’ve dedicated countless hours and weeks to it

But in the past, the train has also been a vessel of entertainment for me

It’s led me to loved ones, and to home

It’s led me to countless opportunities, far and wide

It’s led me to exciting new beginnings, which help calm the anxiety of leaving a life behind

Sometimes I watch those that come on and off about the train, remarking on their different mannerisms and attitudes

I see couples embracing, eager to begin the next chapters of their lives

I see children clinging to their parents, slightly terrified at the loud sounds of the trains, but exhilarated nonetheless

I see another that desires knowledge, with the same curious eyes that watch all

Every person on the train puts aside the nostalgia for their past and chases the unreliability of the future–the same unreliability that makes it all the more interesting

Every person on the train has their own life; we all have somewhere we’ve come from and somewhere we’ll go

Yet every turn and twist the train makes, we follow in unison 

We move together and dance the same dance, our bodies in harmony for just those few moments of our lives

[azraelazalea]

Sometimes the world feels as if it will cave in.

It feels like this wave crashing over you will be the last one you see, it pulling you into the dark abyss.

But just as the creatures and beings on Earth are reborn anew upon great grief or tragedy,

Just as civilizations are rebuilt from what burned to ash,

You too will rise again.

You too will be a greater version of yourself, hardened yet wiser from experience.

You’re not alone. There are many that have felt what you have, and many more who will take you in their warm embraces.

It’s hard, having high standards and being the best version of yourself for others.

You can be the best version of yourself, for you. You can do it. You’re incredible.

Find your lights, in other beings and people and comforting arms and joys, and don’t let them go.

There are those who think your brain should be the only leading factor in your decisions.

I say that reasoning will ultimately lead to misery. We’re social creatures. We weren’t meant to throw apart our feelings in the name of logic.

After all, you’re more than just your mind. You’re your soul, your warmth, your humour, your love. You’re incredible. Don’t forget that.

And, don’t let others forget it too.

Take a deep breath, and space and time if you need it. It’s your life to define. Don’t let someone else dictate it.

Trust yourself to be the champion of your life and love and kindness.

[azraelazalea]

At what point do the minutes stop ticking into hours when she so desperately tries to be someone who’s worth it all?

At what point must she admit defeat and finally fall on her knees, begging for another chance?

When can she stop giving herself up and letting herself be no one so that she can keep her bonds?

Why can’t she peel the metaphoric mask from her face and shout out the hurt buried deep in her heart?

She’s tired, so tired. She wonders when she can finally be bare and true without wondering if one loose word will pull away the thread of her security.

For now, she goes back to her watchful world, trying to decide who she wants to be. Herself, and in isolation? Or someone else, and suppressed? Oh, how she takes the pains others have inflicted on her and allows them to torment her soul!

One day, she’ll learn to speak her mind.

[azraelazalea]

They say the sun symbolizes happiness and life. But for me, the sun is a sad reminder of my unfamiliarity with others.

On a day that was the brightest that had come in a long while, I was blissful amongst my friends and others. Together, we cherished the company and the activity. Yet, given the opportunity to stand on my own for a few forsaken moments, my own solidarity caught up to me. My childhood was slipping between my fingers the way sand rushes through an hourglass. This would be the last time I could have a moment like this.

I do love nature, I truly do. But I dislike the sensation of superficial pleasure. Why is the sun allowed to have a trouble-less day? Why must I worry and reminisce about the passing of a moment right when I am standing just in the spotlight of it? Why must I taint the last taste of euphoria with nostalgia?

I wonder about the others in my place, who laugh and sing as though we do not share the same thoughts. I envy their ability to live in the moment and drive away the thoughts. Oh, the cruel thoughts! I should be satisfied with what I have. Yet, I rage at the joy in the sky and pray for a day when I could be just as pleased with what is in front of me. Does the sun feel the same sadness and tuck it away under false light? I suppose we could never know.

My dear sun, shed your light on me and take my soul into your warm grasp. Free me from the cage of my mind.

[azraelazalea]

When the green turns to orange and red and gold

And the whisper of summer turns to a brushing kiss of fall

The children come out and play and play

They embrace and love and paint in the dirt

This is the story of a red autumn leaf

That as a child I had pressed into a book

“Patience is key”, is what I was told

“Leave it alone and come back with due time”

Time, time, that’s all I don’t have

But ten years later and that leaf stays there

She’s a shrine for the little girl that I once was

And now as I leave the nest I look to free her

We have all the time in the world,

Except for when we don’t

I’m scared for how quickly we’ll turn to the winter

At what point will time slow down?

When I wish to instead escape a moment?

Free me from the chains of time

I love autumn, I truly do

The festivals and birds and smells and people

I love autumn, in all of its queerness

And I wonder about if she were a person

I would press my palm up against hers

And we’d fall into a deep embrace to celebrate the season

[azraelazalea]

There’s a place far away where the birds and bees and trees meet

A place that when I close my eyes encompasses me altogether.

And here my thoughts can nurture and grow and I feel safe enough to leave them be

Knowing that the garden will protect them from the cold with her love.

Here’s the place that I once thought would only be mine to care for in the bitter winter sting

But is now somewhere that grows old along with me.

And when the sun loves us both in the lush morning light

I know I’ve found my very own sanctuary, outside of my mind.

[azraelazalea]

Twelve, for the twelve hours you lay awake, tossing and turning and wondering where you went wrong.

Eleven, for the eleventh of June, the day you left a life behind.

Ten, for the ten fingers that pick at your skin and teeth and hair.

Nine, for the nine breaths you take, as eight is too little and ten is too much.

Eight, as the clock strikes low and you realize you’ve forgotten once more.

Seven, for the seven rings you bought, perfectly matching but never in peace.

Six, for the six lights you seek that yearn to burn on another lantern.

Five, for the five steps you take, backwards and melting into irrelevance.

Four, for the four fingers on your face, grasping and pulling at porcelain that’s cracked.

Three, for the three strikes you’ve gone through, as you’ve let others take them from you.

Two, for the two that went off, that loved you but now love none but themselves.

One, for the one you’ll never find, as the only one who would truly love you is long gone and destroyed.

[azraelazalea]

How did we get here? 

Day by day the figures around us blur into one mess, entangled and beautiful and broken. They play their own game, alien from the hopes of our desperately watchful eye. They communicate in foreign nods and laughs and cries and whispers and we wonder, when did we lose the Rosetta Stone? Oh, what we would give to taste just a minute of the bliss they feel, together and alive. Here on the moon, it is dead silent. We are above everything, but it is not a place of power. It is a place of isolation, and godliness, in the aloof, cold sense. We are not a part of their world. Would we ever be?  Oh how we ache to feel the same Pain and burn in the same fires, when all we are left with is the empty shell of a fired arm. Time and time again, it has been too long and all of our memories have collapsed into a single dream. When we recall it, it is a far, distant orb, out of touch, out of sight, out of mind. Yet when the spirits feel especially cruel, this entity resurfaces and we are suddenly granted that same Pain we ached for. But for us, it lasts only a moment, and thus the impulse is greater. Both they and us feel the same force of Pain, yet theirs has more time to dissipate. It is allowed to spread out, so they are not made broken in one single, swift, clean motion. After all, is the pointed iron blade or the dull plastic party sword a more merciful weapon? Now I realize, there was no us in the first place. It was always a simple I. 

How did we get here? 

[azraelazalea]

David’s Forgotten

To all of the kings and lords who have come before me, how is it like to have control? What must I do to let myself be free of the chains of obligation? If I am not bound by the wrists and paraded like the circus animals, am I dangerous? If I hope for a life beyond one of serving others and being a product of the wills of all that come before me, will I lose who I am altogether? And, if I dare to pay the price of having human feelings and being a part of their world, will the cost drive me to insanity? Sometimes, I wonder how much more simple it would be if I were simply David, forever immortalized in stone. Both he and I live a life on display, with bare bodies and bare hearts uncaught in the wave of panic we see in all. At least when we are visible to all, we are inhuman. We are separate from the grievances others face. We are safe. But when a fire burns in my heart, it spreads across my stone, warming every inch of me. Suddenly, I am alive! After deep isolation, I am suddenly thrusted into the worlds of everyone but my own. I must fight to be the preserved perfection I once was, and it is a war I lose every time. When the peace treaty is signed, everyone is benefitted but me. The flame extinguishes, and as I close my eyes, I am frozen in time once again, until the next wave comes around. 

[azraelazalea]

He sat cross-legged across from her, their bodies close but not touching. As his fingertips lightly brushed against her knee, she looked into his eyes, confused. "I told the stars about you," he whispered. "I told them of how, when you smile, a crease forms in your forehead. I told them of how, when you're frustrated, you play with your hair and interlock your fingers together, moving them back and forth. And finally, " he murmured, bringing his lips to her ear, "I told them of your lips. How soft they are, and how when you laugh, they create the most beautiful sound." Momentarily shocked, she pulled back to look him in the eye. "I've waited for you," she began. "I've waited for you a very long time, to tell you this." She interlocked their fingers and brought his palm to her chest, resting it above her heart. "My heart is yours. It always has been." He laughed bitterly. "Well, then the stars must be cruel. For so long, I've waited for your confession. How heartless may they be, to separate us moments after we finally tell each other how we feel?" She clasped her hands over her mouth, letting out a sorrowful cry as the man she loved pierced a knife into his heart. The very same knife she had gifted him long ago.  "No!" Desperately, she dabbed her cloth around the wound, aimlessly drying the blood that kept flowing as he pulled the knife out with immense labour. He shook his head with much effort, unwillingly letting their hands fall apart as he sank to the ground. "Keep telling the stars about me." She gave a weak smile. "Maybe they will pass the message to you." He gave no response, and all she could do was watch as his eyes slowly lost their light. Silent, she pressed her blood-stained hands to her heart and looked up into the dark abyss, scattered with small lights. "I love him."

[azraelazalea]

Someday in the future, we were friends. We laughed and cried and sang and danced together. When you felt pain, I felt it tenfold. When you cried, my heart was shredded into pieces. You were the sun, and I was so scared of you overshadowing me that I became your Andromeda. I was never meant to be more than the Earth, stable to you and ever loyal. Instead I became someone bent on your very destruction. I remember the look in your eyes when I left you alone there, starving for affection and fragile in emotion. Not a day goes by during which I don’t regret it; during which I don’t regret being able to hear your laugh again. That smooth honey that always brought me back to my senses and grounded me in my place. And so, maybe I should have saved you, after all.

[azraelazalea]

I watched as he slept, his hair growing long and splayed across our bedsheets. When he was unconscious, he looked satisfied and relaxed. This look did not last long after he woke up, but for now it was still there. As I rustled awake, his head shifted slightly from where it was buried in my chest. He was beautiful. Anatomically we were the same, and yet we filled each other’s gaps. We were two halves of a whole.

We shared a bed, not too long after our secret was shared with the world. Here, within our four walls, we were sheltered from the others. It was just me and him. It was all him. Him, with his long eyelashes that brushed the top of his cheeks. Him, with his jawline that was covered in a light stubble, for he had not yet shaved today. Him, with his bare chest, warm against my own. Him, with the crook in his neck that my nose fit perfectly into. Him, with his palms that perfectly encompassed my face. Him, with the mind that found an intellectual equal in mine. Him. All of him that held possession over all of me.

Since the day we met, he never left my mind. The day I kissed him and he kissed me back, I knew that I would never move on from him. He was the only truly good thing in the world, and he was mine. There was something domestic in the way he looked, saintlike and stunning. Waking up with him curled up against me let me understand one thing. I would never love another, and neither would he. We were equals. Socially, physically, mentally, and romantically. I loved this boy with every last bone in my body, and I always would.