What drives my mind crazy
the stillness of the rain
when our heads are exploding
miraculously pounding,
begging for deliberated smiles
the fingers might have bled
from circumstances we could never stop
to interfere could make it worse...
but my knee jolted when no one knocked,
my industrious heart, pleading to be let go of.

Bull's eye. I have dreamed about this not so long ago.

Do you ever wonder what's inside a basket full of shame?
that actually resembles to a pack of soul we filled
when the stories have been torn, pages by pages
when the river stopped overflowing, now it is dreaded.

Even when I'm sleeping
I can feel my heart dropping, melting
like an avalanche...
at least it's still beating, right?

i feel scared.
i don't know why.

sorrowful chapters are necessary
let me protect the situation
it wasn't the stabs that cut deeply
no one speaks about it; what a shame.

(1676)

"drop your weapons,
don't leave the discourse"

well, I've thought about it when nobody's here
my hands cannot cover these shiny tears
our hearts cut in half,
my wings plastered and sore
from falling into the depth
of broken silicon.

my mind might be rotten
but I'm elegantly withering
like a burning chauffeur
in the middle of the autumn,
and will be absolutely unforgotten.

You have the most pleasant touch,
most pleasant eyes, most pleasant wrinkles.
Kotschka, you have turned me into a fire
without knowing it, without seeing it.
Now that you do, look at me and show
me remorse, and give me your condolences.
This is my very first time saying this:
I died when you looked at me
and I died when you said 'hi.'
I died when you smiled,
and I died again when you touched me.
This is how it's going to be, but know
that I can die again and again
as long as it's for you and because of you.

your storms—
something my eyes
is willing to see

(You’re having sleepless nights.)

What a shame. I was about to tell you about the moon’s magical powers and its ability to protest. Heaven says everything would be fine, but still, I cannot comprehend the past and how cryptic it is when the truth has been denounced.

(There are certain words that my mouth will never say but that does not stop me from speaking. I’d give my heart away in the blink of an eye, if I must, for the truth.)

Now, call me, the contagious witch.
For I am always howling for the truth.

And what a shame to agree with dissipation.

You must be thoroughly blind.

functioning
is hard
when people
who once adored you,
now distance themselves
from you.

they peeled off my skin,
shove the lies in my throat,
now i feel the need to repent!

almighty! a terrible suffering.
i allowed them to orchestrate,
sacrifice my token for help—

they petitioned to jeopardize the igloo
for this century despise the moon
and believe they must create a deeper wound

(a letter to Orpheus)

to catch a glimpse of an unwanted occurrence
how long will I have to be a disturbance?
your eyes, always hungry for the moon's elevation
aren't we supposed to address our questions?
so, hear me out—every Wednesday
reminds me of the wild shatters
missed opportunities being tossed out the window
abruptly taken away, getting stuck in a limbo
days of the week relentlessly drifting away
like a fire losing its flame

how could i ever forget?
the silence between the loudest horns
the music bellowing like an unstoppable storm
we could have made it right
but if fear begins with me
that... serves us right.

we've forgotten
loud voices and
unkind words
can break a heart

we cry because of pain
not because we beg
for sympathy

[1] truly, i belong to no one. but unfortunately, my heart keeps yearning for love. i believe it does not make me a desperate woman. for me, it only proves that at the end of the day, we all covet attention, touch, sweetness, and love, of course. if i have given the chance to keep the ones i felt a connection with, i thought maybe, i can fix few parts inside their soul that would make it work. but they proved themselves that they're just a season - and i wish they weren't.

[2] they came barging in, questioning themselves. what have they done long-ago or who they truly are? the eloquence denotes an adoration. they threw pebbles in the fountain and wished a happy ending, illustrating the comfort and triumph we could get. no, they didn't say the endless possibilities. just that. indecision arises within and the injustice won, and just like in everyday life, it occurs often. it's humiliating to admit how i almost drowned in the lake where i supposedly am only wearing a silver lining but instead, i wore a discolored crown and a cheap jewel. nevertheless, i giggled, of course; who wouldn't? oh yes! my future self will call it deceptive. but isn't it?

[3] i saw a blotch of paint on my arms. a raspberry bruise on my knee slowly vanishing as i tried to stroke the brush onto the white canvas. the art is looking more forlorn than it was thirty-two minutes ago despite the cerulean clouds and ginger-colored paint dripping. there's a feeling of dissatisfaction that seems to linger—no, let me rephrase that. it’s like a sting in my heart, just like how needles can abruptly make your fingers bleed, or how someone can touch your soul except they can swiftly **** you twice. shut your eyes or shut the door? would you even dare to choose? i cleared my throat before picking up the paints on the floor. if this is a dream, i will not protest.

[4] the deities, whom i described as righteous, superior and unbeatable, declared a plague where humans become bellicose. in a piece of paper, i wrote it all down and carry it in my pocket every now and then. i believe this is how we, the mortals, should be; someone who has a sense of right and wrong. but the latter ones love contradicting the divine. so i guess, this is a sentence. i told them no! i will never be one of them! but i cannot decipher their faces. there's a slight uncertainty on the surface because of my undeniable convictions. i am a woman, after all.

[5] i believed in rainbow-like reality. my soul grew up in a household full of love, trust and maybe a few adventurous spirits. the clash of unfair judgment and misconception doesn't seem to matter. we're all different, point taken. yet, it did not disrupt the petals budding in meadowland; something i pictured in my head when i was five or seven years old. i simply believed in love, and loving them could be the ultimate cure to wounded hearts. for me, there are no bad people, only a damaged one.

[6] i tried to soften my heart. again and again and again. but it seems useless. do they enjoy betraying the trust? do they like sinful beginnings? do they love being an untrustworthy person? i cannot fathom their reasoning and logical thoughts. apart from the fact that they make my heart aches, terribly, they think dominance is the only way for me to think that they're in control - and that's the most disgusting thing.

[7] my ears cannot disregard the heavy steps between the whirlwinds that disturb the bushes. i've talked to the owls last night and they said you were wide awake the whole night. they told me how frustrated you were with how things turned out. how awful! you know i can't call the ambulance - not because i can't do anything about, but because i really don't want to.

justice hurts when truth prevails. suffocating, isn't it?

[8] i have no idea how to swallow my bruised ego. excuse my ignorance - does it sound foolish? coming from the mouth of a woman laying her head down, scorned repeatedly by the hands who willingly pushed the wine barrels from the top of the hill, resulting in unstoppable motion.

my cardigan tenderly wrapped around my body, i felt the skin cuts, the remorse for letting you all in, the storm brewing, sorrow - all at once.

don't you dare tell me i did not even try!

let me fill up
the empty cup
with these tears
from regrets and fears.

rose petals run my mind back then
now it's all about silver blades
that draws a long line on my wrist

do you see me, sir, as a foolish maiden?
excuse my manner but how could you?

to live or to die is not my wish
to get what i deserve is what i need
i'm scared of the dark and i ask myself why
reality is dark and hell is bright

In an empty ballet room, I grasped a blue spellbook with unknown proximity. Its enthralling sensation made me realized that I truly never mastered the ability to feel withdrawn. There are certain things in life that I cannot look away from—such as enticing gestures, delicate scenery and a glass full of wine. I am who I am and none of the people I have met or I will meet can change that.

I had this clarity that I have to feel big, even in small spaces and that I don't have to feel small in crowded places. Although I sing a different song when I am alone—fearful yet incandescent, and sometimes menacing, at least for me—my own colors can be atrocious, and yes, I love it.

if i survive this drought,
does it make me tough?
or does it make me cruel
for not calling your name?

i feel as though i am a misplaced dirt. i don’t belong here. i don’t fit in anywhere. it seems like every place i go to will be a strange memory. like a mere fog in the city transporting your soul into vulnerability, allowing you to surrender your weeping soul. some days, the sadness consumes me. stop this ******* pain! oftentimes, when i am alone, in the dark corner of my bedroom, i say this to myself. beating my chest intensely, missing the warm glow i once had, preaching the power of internal monologues i purposely created to fabricate a picture where i am pure and glistening. but this isn’t me. i am beseeching the gods above us, have mercy on me! the unknown cause forcing my bones to feel the ache. give me the silver blades to end this madness. open lungs, dampen pillows and deep desires to take a new gaze upon the world. but the misery keeps my hands *******. the fact that i have the ability to commit a mistake drowns my body in the ocean of disappointment. hush, put me inside the coffin instead. i made my own bed. this impulsion to start anew is nonsense. the absence of one’s emotions used to make me puke. i have never known how people can easily forget a face, not until i lost myself, and to realize everything about it is a fear i will endlessly think about—for breathing the pure poison of the world is easier. i will never be the same. i will never be the same. i will never be the same. the eccentric aftermath will always be bittersweet. in the blink of an eye, i forgot my own face.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

we're alive but
our souls are
rotting in hell

we were the dark side
of the clouds whispering
to the sun how to stay bright

i have always wanted to tell the mortals to bury the hatchet. but i know sustaining a war sometimes feels comfortable—a unique distraction to preoccupy our raging minds, parting ourselves from the unsatisfied society. still, everything stays. our pasts. the heartbreaks. love. the deities will never punish us for the displeasure but it will make us tick. we should know.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

tell the world she's the girl who looks happy
and the girl who is secretly lonely

the water from the shower continues to run down. my back against the wall, trembling hands, smudged mascara on my lashes. people's eyes always imply to act proper. i will always be a   /l a d y/   but oh, i think i will never be free from their expectations. frowning face, stern behavior, bitter truth—they loathe it.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

so much to say,
but don't know how.

something i've learned—
nothing is coincidence.
no one is born by accident.

it is only a matter of time;
for the years we asked why
and for the times we stayed up all night

i’ve built so many walls around my heart that i willingly break for you.

the hardest part
is not being able
to talk about it

he’s drunk in love
knocks on her door
when it falls apart

how come i perceive?
her feverish face
while his tongue flicks;
the truth and secrets—

her kisses, her touch, her;
i can tell everything is a necessity
how you move your body enticingly

everything is nothing to you
she kisses you because it's true—
you’re everything to her while you
only loved the moon.

i beg for your
forgiveness—

at times
that i am distant
for sadness is a fear
i face with vulnerable eyes.

at times
that my silence
seems anger to you
when i'm finding the light.

at times
that i won't let you
see the tears
behind every white lie.

i will come back,
i always do;
but for now,
i beg for your
forgiveness.

I like going to the dark places
without even thinking
that I could possibly
get drown with my own thoughts
and whispers from the shadows
but I'd tell you something
you don't know about me
I have always felt alive
and alone at the same time
I have felt the lights dimming
in front of my eyes while I lay my cards
I have seen the terror in the hands
of the unknown
I have seen my own shattered heart
always at bay
and perhaps, that's the reason why
no one wants to stay