Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

When I rage, I rumble, cave, and crumble, slip and stumble, bleak, I bumble, like the thunder, I crash, then clap, snap, crackle and POP against the still & silent night I slip, and spew, acidic ash, then steal the stars right out from the sky. I scream, to shriek, to prey on passersby. I flash like lightning, with all my might, I bite, so brightly, fighting all the blessings in my life. My ego roars awake, it makes the ground shake, like I'm an earthquake, leaving disaster in its wake, determined to bruise our beautiful land, and dehydrate its lakes. I climb higher, growing stronger— making marks, and lasting longer. A tsunami of me, that spares no sinner, and saves no saint. Unrelenting, unapologetic for the lives I'd take. I throw a fit, and let it rip, and tear apart entire towns. A sonic boom that blasts and razes cities, without a sound. Voracious, when I vanish villages in overflowing, rivers of venom. Amplified by the acid that I spit, ambivalent, as I annihilate ...

  With each day I take for granted, I vow to appreciate the next, blessed with the opportunity to once again look, and feel my best.  With my feet firmly planted, my morals maneuver me through all the rest, as I have been granted another day to conquer the world and put my limits to the test.   Some may call me an idealist though I am as real as they come, as I refuse to succumb to the notion that we must all acquiesce to society's rules that really only just make us boring and numb.   I can paint my own destiny, I am the master of my domain, though my moods and momentum may change in an instant, I am grateful that they change at all, as my indecision shows I'm living, and still standing despite my many falls.   Others' attempts to understand me often leave them more perplexed than when they began, I am an anomaly and will not be mislabeled by any other man.   A human being, not one doing, I live and let live just as well, yet I am still often the...

  Superfluous in your sedation, a situation of inebriation. Projecting onto others all that fills you with trepidation. Your salvation seems to be entwined with degradation. Humiliation tactics result in little more than alienation; an isolated abomination enabled by your own frustration. And yet, you play the fool, act so coy, as though it's recreation, when it's really just cause for further consternation. The stars in your enchanting eyes could've been constellations, instead of this denial-footed dance that defines your docile narration. A creation of confidence kissed by complacence, I pray you find a way to heal before you pursue further relations. Irrigate your need for empty validation, before it eats away at your soul's starvation.

  You came along when skies were dark, just like a song, you left your mark. Upon my heart, I felt a spark. Our energy was off the charts, hit a homerun, out of the ballpark. An unexpected restart, our chemistry encapsulated me, like the finest art. I was a whale, and you my shark, these butterflies, you left me, are all monarch. And I refuse to disembark, from the stark difference between you and other guys. No other lover has been quite as adept, at leaving me feeling windswept. Caught off guard, although I like it, this kind of love at first sight, it's disarming, although it feels effortless. a brand new reference, that's incredulous. And now I'm here, and you're so far, but I can still feel your touch upon my brand new skin. You've become the one I want, oh how, I crave your gaze, that's enchanted me, and made it's mark, whether you're right next to me, or as far away as Central Park. Never before has someone been more intriguing, or befitting of my...

I collect others' karmic dust cure &&& heal the unconscious like a vacuum, I suction up trials &&& trauma that disrupt daily lives leaving them in disrepair disturbances that dare to keep them on the edge of their toes like volcanoes verging to erupt. Then wring my hands til blood runs circling the sink accusing everything but the boundaries I don't put up, to protect the sacred sanctity of my own sanity, a counterintuitive cycle that needs to complete, so that it leads to the death of this dance that defeats. Nothing compared to the joy it depletes.