Paranoid

Paranoid for a reason,
for the death of another soulmate.
Looking ‘round for a clone of souls
I’ve lost along the way.
Looking ‘round for a version of me,
looking in all the wrong places;
at these four walls,
so sickly sweet, I’ve caught
a stomachache.

© Amina Caprice Andolini 2018

Skeleton Key

You’ll never know what’s locked
inside a fat, fragile frame.
You’re not allowed in my garden:
of flowers untold by the Universe,
hypnotic trees and metrical colors.
And pickled whiffs of yesteryear,
whipping hints of unfinished business;
spiking cups we’ll never fill,
and wishes we’ll never accomplish.
As I sit in the grass and wait
for you, a lost lonely fluid,
I guard each dream inside a skeleton key.
I’ll guard those dreams forever,
in the only key I’ll treasure,
as I sit in the grass and wish those days
could fill each empty measure.
What’s now a fruitless endeavor
is bugging me.

© Amina Caprice Andolini 2018

Chilly Reminiscence

Depression has made
a home in my abyss.
Snuggled in its itchiness,
delighting in the smell
of damp towel
and hot chocolate.
After so many candy
bars and cookies
all of my problems persist.
Wrapped around its
chilly reminiscence.

© 2018 Amina Caprice Andolini

Disparage

Her way is hysteria
Nickleslick chaos
Ruddy yellow dreams of steam

Her way is lost in chaos
Rose-colored glasses
Psychedelic dreams at ease

Disparage in her madness
Her dreams won’t come true
Criticize every color
Disparage

Mock her slipping sanity
See her crazy past
Psycho-mad hysteria
Disparage

© 2018 Amina Caprice Andolini

Concealed in frosty blackness
in rustic shadows, blacker leaps
in each twist and turn of my desk chair
dealing with bouts of hysteria
blemished by false beliefs

© 2017 Amina Caprice Andolini

 

Phantasm

Reflections of sadness
Through an amazing third eye creep
Producing futile lucidness
As magic abandons my dream
Catching your ghost in my workspace
No matter how unreal – Quaking –
Meeting craziness head-on

© Amina Caprice Andolini 2017

Cherry-Pink Metropolis

imagining the wind…
as rough as every seed
in its long, pale clutches
shaking in the wake of
its pink lethargic change
and her delicate mind
realizes the shift

to cherry-pink metropolis

and she realizes…
it doesn’t include the
blast of her symphony
it doesn’t include the
blast of her abundance
it doesn’t include the
blast of her breezy soul

to cherry-pink metropolis

the original crew…
from the soggy outback
to new reality
their words make little sense
to her delicate mind
covered in cherry-pink
imagining the new

© 2017 Amina Caprice Andolini