During the day, the basement is occupied by the rest of my family. Once the clock strikes late, however, it becomes my sanctuary. The basement consists of couches, a television, and a personal bathroom. While my bedroom is a small section, hidden by two bookshelves; potted artificial plants atop them, accompanied by a screen. The space feels insignificant in comparison to the rest of the basement, much like how I feel in the grander scheme of things.
Upon entering my bedroom, my eyes scan every living inch of space. I look closely, magnifying each nook and cranny, checking for what little may have fallen out of place. Once I feel that things
Every single inch of time
Every memory that makes up our lives
Can easily be captured
And kept safe inside our minds
And when these moments are placed on paper
Line, by line, by line
These experiences come to life
And somehow are defined
All the emotions felt by those
That are constantly aware
Always kept upon their toes
Their many ideas are set aflare
These people become warriors
Their weapons are their words
Their stories become couriers
Their tales soar fearlessly like birds
Through creative minds, these ideas of humanity are brought about
And although these works of art are fleeting,
Literature is the one thing, it seems
We travelled.
In recent journeys.
And from one end we say
"Behold, the great world is overcome with madness."
And from the other we say
"Behold, the great world."
Eyes were lifted
Stones and arrows
Fire
We have been attacked
We have been struck by the assassin's sword
Our angels have bled
The shining woman
We blush
In her purity of heart
In her demeanor
In the gesture of Creation, motive, devotion and subservience
In greater glory
His thoughts attempt
To control his emotions
His focus fell
His gaze now passing
To think what the human race has become
We tell you
"Upon the face of the Earth is the stamp of man."
As I wait patiently in the waiting room,
Or rather nervously, containing my pacing, doom
I notice a bouquet of red roses in bloom
Stemming from an ivy vase, ascending to the brim, in plume
And in silence, I long to hear sounds be exhumed
To hear the two syllable word that belongs to me
My name, my title, my property
I peel the skin of my thumb nail down till it bleeds
Press my tongue softly to its newly-formed crevice
Hoping earnestly that no one sees
To my right I see various magazines:
MacLean's, Chatelaine, stories that no one reads
Unless they're forced to preoccupy themselves subtly
And I pick up the copy of Parents
The i
In a Stairwell Across from a Dark Room by MyLifeAsAFish, literature
Literature
In a Stairwell Across from a Dark Room
When our dog-days found us here,
Early setting was the sun.
Music filled the air,
The sound of a performance, but
Not one we were a part of.
For, we had performed our own
Acts of lust-
Sweat of summer,
Heat of love.
In a corner, where white walls
Are covered in dust.
Although there is scandal in hidden happenings,
In exposition, however, there is a newfound want
Not to be seen.
And yet, we risk it all, it seems.
I don't feel regret in the embrace of our bodies,
Nor what I questioned as I looked over the Don Valley.
Wondering who could be as lucky as I?
Encompassed in pleasure, climax to the sky
And out of the corner of my e
The sultriness of your chest
Your heartbeat lulling me to sleep
Your blistered fingers, scratching the outline of my breasts
As your lips press to mine
Saliva starts to seep
The red-velvet blanket
Devours us like a predator to its prey
It reminds me of a phoenix
Rising up from the ash
In flames
The way your mouth speaks words I can't repeat
Like "beautiful", "angelic", "radiant", "pleasing"
I shudder at the thought of being what you call "appealing"
For there is something you see in me
That I don't believe myself in
You appear to me as an animal
Beastly in your behaviour
Your want for my body is tangib
As my feet leave their prints in the polar white snow,
They sound exactly like a giant's would, monstrous and destructive
I can feel my boots sink through, the defining texture of sidewalk
This helps me believe that things fall through naturally, uncontrollably
HELP!
I am entranced
As the figures surrounding me
Advance
They resemble my friends, familiar beings
Yet when their lips stir,
I don't follow their meanings
Perplexed pupils, set ahead in
Hysteria
I am immobile, immersed in
The area
HELP!
Desolate, am I
Forsaken, restrained sighs
When petrified expressions
Are uttered
They feel taciturn
Unholy, vile, sly
I long to howl out
To grasp these bodies about
And as their cores begin to quake
Deservedly ache
HELP!
Such virtuous oblivion to blame
No concrete culprits to attach tainted names
Perhaps the reality that hindering
This torment
Was realizable in some ways
Truly mak
During the day, the basement is occupied by the rest of my family. Once the clock strikes late, however, it becomes my sanctuary. The basement consists of couches, a television, and a personal bathroom. While my bedroom is a small section, hidden by two bookshelves; potted artificial plants atop them, accompanied by a screen. The space feels insignificant in comparison to the rest of the basement, much like how I feel in the grander scheme of things.
Upon entering my bedroom, my eyes scan every living inch of space. I look closely, magnifying each nook and cranny, checking for what little may have fallen out of place. Once I feel that things
Every single inch of time
Every memory that makes up our lives
Can easily be captured
And kept safe inside our minds
And when these moments are placed on paper
Line, by line, by line
These experiences come to life
And somehow are defined
All the emotions felt by those
That are constantly aware
Always kept upon their toes
Their many ideas are set aflare
These people become warriors
Their weapons are their words
Their stories become couriers
Their tales soar fearlessly like birds
Through creative minds, these ideas of humanity are brought about
And although these works of art are fleeting,
Literature is the one thing, it seems
We travelled.
In recent journeys.
And from one end we say
"Behold, the great world is overcome with madness."
And from the other we say
"Behold, the great world."
Eyes were lifted
Stones and arrows
Fire
We have been attacked
We have been struck by the assassin's sword
Our angels have bled
The shining woman
We blush
In her purity of heart
In her demeanor
In the gesture of Creation, motive, devotion and subservience
In greater glory
His thoughts attempt
To control his emotions
His focus fell
His gaze now passing
To think what the human race has become
We tell you
"Upon the face of the Earth is the stamp of man."
As I wait patiently in the waiting room,
Or rather nervously, containing my pacing, doom
I notice a bouquet of red roses in bloom
Stemming from an ivy vase, ascending to the brim, in plume
And in silence, I long to hear sounds be exhumed
To hear the two syllable word that belongs to me
My name, my title, my property
I peel the skin of my thumb nail down till it bleeds
Press my tongue softly to its newly-formed crevice
Hoping earnestly that no one sees
To my right I see various magazines:
MacLean's, Chatelaine, stories that no one reads
Unless they're forced to preoccupy themselves subtly
And I pick up the copy of Parents
The i
In a Stairwell Across from a Dark Room by MyLifeAsAFish, literature
Literature
In a Stairwell Across from a Dark Room
When our dog-days found us here,
Early setting was the sun.
Music filled the air,
The sound of a performance, but
Not one we were a part of.
For, we had performed our own
Acts of lust-
Sweat of summer,
Heat of love.
In a corner, where white walls
Are covered in dust.
Although there is scandal in hidden happenings,
In exposition, however, there is a newfound want
Not to be seen.
And yet, we risk it all, it seems.
I don't feel regret in the embrace of our bodies,
Nor what I questioned as I looked over the Don Valley.
Wondering who could be as lucky as I?
Encompassed in pleasure, climax to the sky
And out of the corner of my e
The sultriness of your chest
Your heartbeat lulling me to sleep
Your blistered fingers, scratching the outline of my breasts
As your lips press to mine
Saliva starts to seep
The red-velvet blanket
Devours us like a predator to its prey
It reminds me of a phoenix
Rising up from the ash
In flames
The way your mouth speaks words I can't repeat
Like "beautiful", "angelic", "radiant", "pleasing"
I shudder at the thought of being what you call "appealing"
For there is something you see in me
That I don't believe myself in
You appear to me as an animal
Beastly in your behaviour
Your want for my body is tangib
As my feet leave their prints in the polar white snow,
They sound exactly like a giant's would, monstrous and destructive
I can feel my boots sink through, the defining texture of sidewalk
This helps me believe that things fall through naturally, uncontrollably
HELP!
I am entranced
As the figures surrounding me
Advance
They resemble my friends, familiar beings
Yet when their lips stir,
I don't follow their meanings
Perplexed pupils, set ahead in
Hysteria
I am immobile, immersed in
The area
HELP!
Desolate, am I
Forsaken, restrained sighs
When petrified expressions
Are uttered
They feel taciturn
Unholy, vile, sly
I long to howl out
To grasp these bodies about
And as their cores begin to quake
Deservedly ache
HELP!
Such virtuous oblivion to blame
No concrete culprits to attach tainted names
Perhaps the reality that hindering
This torment
Was realizable in some ways
Truly mak
To Tell Fact From Fiction by MyLifeAsAFish, literature
Literature
To Tell Fact From Fiction
Eyes, amidst a roundabout of bodies
Are the beacons of light amongst a storm.
They express the being to which we do not
Digest.
Emotion, or lack there of, has never
Been exemplified in the way that the
Eyes can.
This is not poetry, for this is a
Statement of truth among the misinterpreted
Lives of many, lives of few.
Fluid, be the figures we call ourselves.
A portrayal of a calm tide inside a
Crowded sea.
To trounce the web of false murmurs, not to
Entangle oneself in the tapestry,
To identify the truth, the right
From the deception, from the wrong,
Look to the eyes, as their beauty
holds no lies.
I'm Michael. I'm an aspiring writer, mostly poetry, but, I've come to love writing prose too. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. If you have any questions send me a note, and if you like my work please don't be afraid to or comment. Thanks.
Current Residence: Canada
Favourite Movies
Donnie Darko, Fight Club, Spirited Away, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist.
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Bombay Bicycle Club, Metric, Tegan and Sara, The xx, Lady Gaga, Tokyo Police Club.