Xanadu
 

Encapsulated heat arose, the ocean grew bitter and cold  as Uranus released a bubbly substance, its desire for the human race emerges, in a scallop shell to shore. Seafoam washed up by the seashore. Seafoam becomes she, the embodiment of a human being. A beautiful beast created, fully grown, craving for mating with man. Myrtles await her arrival, Doves hatch in branches, flying overhead to greet her. Gods fall in a lustful love.  On their hands and knees meeting her. On the i

She’s the breath of spring— reduced to a wilting flower. Life calls her name— Death holds her down. A beauty of nature, A prisoner of mortality. The cool breeze sings of her liberation. The fiery heat shapes her shackles. Bound to the confinements of eternity, merely a visitor in her own world. You thank her for the changing seasons, while her mother grieves.

You’ve been off, father. They call you the god of War— a symbol of strength and courage, never bending to the likes of anyone. Your bloodlust knowing no bounds, your drive to seek chaos, your thirst for destruction, leading you to seek blood. And yet, you don’t seem like it. Instead, you look like  a god of Impotence, a god of Failure, a god of Fear. But… that title is supposed to belong to me. So why do you show it? Perhaps the reason isn’t because of the many physical battl

Tell me of the righteousness of the devas  and the monstrousness of the asuras. Which are demons? and which are gods? Both were cursed  for pride and ugliness. Both came together to mix the milk of the sea. The demons were deceived like the workers of the slums; hard work did not yield power and a share of good, sweet fortune. From both can we learn, and neither should we dismiss. The gods chose foul play even though it is the demons’ nature that is said to be hellish.

Every morning you rise  without asking. You are so beautiful  while you undo me. Your warmth presses against me. A drop forms, then another. Suddenly, I feel myself slipping, edges softening, corners turning into water. “But I can't stop shining,” you say. I can’t stop watching as you slowly take my life. Drop by drop I become something new something less solid.

I used to be a goddess, but now they call me a monster. Like I was born with these strange, sickening, snakes in my hair. But once, my hair was just hair. Still soft enough for the wind to comb through. I used to be a girl who believed in the gods, and mercy. But then came the curse. A hiss where my laughter used to live, scales where skin used to be warm. Now men, who call themselves warriors, travel miles for the glory of my silence. When they look at me, they see what they

She grabs my throat with a loose grip, her grasp slightly restricting but sweet. She whispers in my ear— chanting. I can hear her but it has a different feel. Carolina. She gleams in rays of light— leaving the diamonds to reflect. Smiling at everyone she sees. Carolina. The little girl trapped in its shiny plaque,  only now, she's not so little. Growing with the length of the chain except it's getting shorter while I’m getting taller.  Carolina.  Its arms wrap around me like

Have a good time. You gotta love a good time. Middle of the summer, on the beach,  glass of coke in hand, now that’s a good time.  Convertible Porsche 911 Turbo S on an easy  Sunday post night out, that’s also a good time.  The first notes of Nikes  by Frank Ocean,  sitting beside a lover you know won’t be here long. That’s a great time.  So many good times I can’t even  pick a favorite one— concerts, albums, cars,  people. It’s all a blessing. Good times are my favorite bles

I belong where you exist — where the tide folds into itself,  washing ashore a string of memories.  The water hums with the thoughts you left behind,  your faded voice caught in the loud waves.  I want to be the coral at the bottom of the sea, beneath the ocean currents,  Anchored.  but, alive watching the light bend and break above me.  I want to be the seagulls above,  Watching the water shift and shimmer,  circling the surface you once held.  The wind carries your name,  a

And when the shoe finally gives way— it does not fail all at once.  It loosens, thins, forgets its shape. What once held the foot upright becomes something barely worn,  a reminder rather than a shoe. A reminder of all the work you put into  shaping the shaft that was once hard. The shoe dies quietly but quickly.  The demand of the shoe quiets,  no more breaking of the shaft,  looking to be broken in and sewn.  It starts to let you sink,  Gravity is starting to weigh ⸺ The sh