payday (an excerpt)

“I have got to get out of here,” was my first impression of high school. I didn't know anyone in this school. “I need to go home where I could be myself,” I muttered as if I were Popeye while speed-walking to my first class. I was a quarter of an hour late. Who gets …

xv

FAQ not part of the collection when i was writing this sequence, questions about the primary reason why margarette ended the relationship with the lover prematurely were raised, but the thing is that there was no apparent reason why she did what she did. it will always be a mystery to the lover. i’ve also …

xii

i need to hear your voice; there is no sound in space ©2017, Quiyet Brul  

xi

my hollow chest sings to the empty spaces you hurt me still, i am a beating heart that thinks you’re a work of art ©2017, Quiyet Brul

x

i sing a song filling all the spaces in between of nothing and everything with fireflies and fire and ice no space, nothing in between ©2017, Quiyet Brul

ix

my mouth, a black hole where nothing escapes and my eyes, a white hole where everything escapes because you took the ability of escaping and not escaping and existing while not existing every contradiction becomes one you escaped; i couldn't ©2017, Quiyet Brul

viii

i am nothing but a beating heart my head, decapitated i am unconscious: unalive but also undead feeling both at once when did breathing become a difficult chore? (since i lost my head my lips have forgotten to kiss the way you liked it) ©2017, Quiyet Brul

vii

the stars in the clear sky sing me a song soughing them in my ears we’re star-crossed ©2017 Quiyet Brul

vi

the song echoes in the universe: i finally felt i belonged… (again) that i take up some space while taking up no space at the same time because have you ever thought how big space is? ©2017 Quiyet Brul

iv

a song carelessly sung of how you’re both pleasure and pain as if my head is torn off powerless to think clearly as if a thousand fires ignite when we touch, unable to put out as if your tingling icy breaths freeze the time ©2017, Quiyet Brul