The bad effects of clogged drainage

this is when i went to starcity (themepark) with my bestfriend... this is about how i miss my girlfriend when i was there..

"The bad effects of clogged drainage"

Swimming in the flood
are divisions of emptiness
stretching from each of our distant fingertips
that dissipates city lights
into lonely apparitions
just beneath the mud
which creates a growing force of gravity
as we drift further away by millenias
only put to rest by the next brushing of our souls

Fireworks from a childish God

i wrote this on new years day remembering the fireworks a while ago... missing someone


"Fireworks from a childish God"
by: paolo macariola

and in the moment of the moon
skies collapse
into lights that scatter and diffuse
into planes of scattered crayons
it was as if a childish god held them with fragile fingers
and painted streaks of explosions and destruction
bright and deafening with flame

clouds are scarred this night
as the child god blew holes into them
with the planes of scattered crayons
bright and deafening with flame

I find myself looking up
to the ellipses, streaks, lines,
dots and novas across the night sky
and remember the godchild's small and stubby fingers
drawing patterns by will
--suddenly i think of you
and wished that somewhere in the collapsing sky
shall i find your face
drawn by a childish god
holding crayons

polka supernova

they say that fireworks scare away evil spirits

"polka supernova"
by paolo macariola

rainbow novas pop
sending slides of sparks
down the horizon
and i imagine you...
wearing a polka dot shirt
that your mom would give you
for more financial luck
this coming year

such superstitious imagination
is followed by polka shaped coins
falling on white marble
where you will be wearing
a gown of novas
sending me sparks

and us walking down the horizon of an aisle
greeted by vows of imagination

Random thoughts

"Random thoughts 000"
by paolo macariola

running away
from
the sidewalk
we
found
ourselves
in the
middle
of the road
full
of fast cars
that
will
later run
over us
and crush our bodies into one

Painting sepulchers and fairies

i miss my girlfriend...

"painting sepulchers and fairies"
by paolo macariola


deep in the sepulcher of fantasies
are enchanted jungles
of radiances only equaled
by the mosaic of memory

this memory, yours
feeds thirst to my emptiness of being
unrecognizable as soul space
unchangeably still

like a portrait
that paints itself with colors
of the end
buried deep in the sepulcher of my fantasy

my fantasy, you
feeds upon your memory
this i recognize as soul space
unchangeably still

Sodium nostalgia

its about breaking up and remembering, crying

"sodium nostalgia"

we dream of fogged up mirrors
where our footsteps leave no trace
where our hearts hover the sky
like clouds heavy with seawater

the sun burns a foot or so away
we are mud baked brittle in an oven of dreams
owned by seashores
drowned in muck

i wanted to tell you
how we are a beautiful tragedy
but butterflies escape my words
before we can even taste the remnants
of salt between our palms

Birds of prey

i wrote this for sum1 i hate so much.. she's a girl so i guess i cant kick her ass thats why i just wrote it down

"Birds of prey"

No one knows what is hidden behind those glances
Like the blades of your marble stare drenched in the ruin
Of empathy. Your demise crawls around the skin on my neck
In resemblance of a grand ploy from some primordial void

A flower from a nameless realm wanders into the existence of artifice
Exuding beauty and grandeur in its flamboyant display of glass feathers
How the sky is a mirror inverting reflection of petals
Into a barren fruit wilted to the core

No one knows how pillars of marble came
Turning stares into blades stained by a yearning for ruin
Ploys emanate voids that crawl around
The skin on my neck

Peacocks once were nameless flowers existing for artifice
Blossoming by the cracks of drought
The sky is a ripe domain for the seasoning of flowers
Into barren fruits wilted to the core

No one knows when the blades start
Their yearning for ruin
Apathetic ploys crawl around
The void of your existence

How the sky is full of the carcasses of dead peacocks
That nurtures rotten beauty
I am a bird of prey
Waiting for flowers to ripen into Fruits — wilted to its core