The Far Sea
A far sea moves in my ear.
Dancing with a silent hiss in waves deep.
Making me miss all oxygen from your exhale
Poison me with your firm grip,
I’ll let you—
Kill me softly so I can haunt you
I am not dark, only an inhabitant of
the dark side of our Moon.
My demons swallowed all the stars
Around, left us no room to exist in
Without eyes wide shut we made darkness our baby.
An all-encompassing blanket, the sea, the sea—
We can rise above all like rebellious balloons,
Where your obsession with speed made
Vertigo my best vision.
If I had some sunlight I could see your heart
Like I see the veins in leaves of a monster.
Wish I could jar it all, this light a delight
Save it for a stormy night so I could call back
All drowned stars, wake them up up up—
Let the moon grimace in her shine— a shrine.
The Liquid Mirror
For an eternity, you were in love with an image. Of you—
In your liquid mirror with gentle waves in the breeze
Your messy mind bipolar helped with your shape-shifting
You believed you were the deus, the monster
Statue-heavy; forlorn and torn.
I broke you to be your savior, to repair you better—
Mistaken me for an angel; my darkness collapsed
Under a smile mask infectious. All pretense of bliss
Echoed in the caves of my laughter.
Come in come in—
The Heart Factory
Manufacturing a clockwork orange
Or a sun man-made.
We live in
Unique worlds of thoughts
Made up in collaboration
With demon-esque insecurities
And a sprinkle of dangerous
I make many different hearts—
Mass-production for masseduction
So when you break the glass
I recycle all shards as little daggers
To shatter your ice-heart.
Learned ruthlessness from the master.
Before it melts and forms your
Ocean of liquid mirrors
Only show your reflection
A world of one of one of
One. Sometimes I think you are
Made of zeros and ones
Am I allowed to breathe
In your world of one—
Only if I
Can make a heart factory
So I die to be born and torn
A million selves and ghosts
body now. Learned
Ruthlessness from the master.
Semi-autobiographical, fictional trilogy focuses and goes down a rabbit hole of a metaphor of the far sea moving in my ear, a quote from Sylvia Plath’s poem Morning Song.
The main focus of the poem is Sylvia Plath’s newborn daughter Frieda and her “composing” the “Morning Song” for her. I was drawn to the specific line “A far sea moves in my ear.”, I resonated with this feeling of being drawn to something majestic, out of control, yet often distant.
Although in Sylvia Plath's case, the "far sea" refers to the sound of her baby's cry, I had different free associations with the same line, which are partially evident in the trilogy of poems.
I find the human capacity to attach new meaning to pre-existing sounds, visions and metaphors fascinating. It felt almost like a theme song echoing in my past relationships, as a far sea would move and draw me in with its captivating melody, almost like a hook.