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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
When the sky mimics an illusory highway,  
  camouflaged in colors of confusion,  
    crowded with contrasts of chaos,  
I stand stranded    at the crossroads,  
   draped in   distorted resolutions,  
   soaked in   pixelated perspectives,  
overwhelmed on the verge of vertigo.  

For I’m tired of counting syllables 
to weave mismatched metaphors  
   that lead into pulsating pages  
        of monochrome memories,  
flowing in    r e v e r s e
        like redundant riddles.  

I’m drained from tip-toeing  
     along cobalt side-lines,  
         aching to be seen,  
                 longing to be heard~
amidst the silence and composure.
But will the eyes of anemic ink  
     ever feel the unwritten truth?  
Their ignorance sees not  
      beyond blurred beams of  
                 b l a c k  and w h i t e ….

I’ve long been steering the wheels  
      of star-crossed fate,  
oblivious to the terrors  
that float beyond the twinkling horizon,  
where the jaded jewels  
     of midnight burn,  
when dreams decay 
             and love lingers~
as lost sentiments between  
   the acrobatic edges of waning sunsets.  

Riding into nothingness  
       seems more comforting  
than the slippery slopes carved  
           by ruthless reality,  
as deepest scars remain unseen  
          in crippling crevices of  
crashing emotions,  
       while uncertainties are  
the constant gravity grounding me  
into the bricks and bones  
     of h e a l i n g ….

Maybe this is the essence 
of breathing restlessly,  
   as tales of meaningless moments  
sound more mellifluous,  
and chronicles of    unnamed boulevards  
                seem more inviting,
when everything and anything that 
   moves in slow cadence 
        becomes a bleeding trigger. 

Yet to be held and embraced  
     within frames of fear  
is where this pilgrimage 
     of pillow-shaped promises  
           shall finally conclude,  
and I wish, 
     maybe somewhere down  
the vanishing point of the  
          demented lane,  
blooming with shared dandelion rhymes,  
there, crystalline constellations 
would turn skeptical galaxies 
     into raining diamonds,  
to shawl you in amorous auroras  
          when coldness seeps in.  

And with or without me,  
    if I were a beloved enigma,
I hope your prolific pen 
      will still remember
 the silhouettes of soulmates, 
to sketch within the ardent graph  
of cosmic connection,  
     where sonnets of your soul~
will echo this immortal romance.
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