Some times,
in this cage i called my mind,
i found my self staring at the horizon, reminiscing memories.

Some times,
i found my self wondering about what if's
and that just made the ache in my heart stronger, made the cage seem much closer.

Missing something that could be, like a phantom limb.

Maybe we're all happy in another universe.

And maybe,
Just maybe we're all free to be true to ourselves.

Here be the solace
for the lost
for the forgotten
for the wanderers
for the starving hearts
hungry for words
to feed the aching soul

Your judgement
is your mirror.
how often do
people forget that.

Throwing sentence,
after sentence
deciding guilty
with out hearing
their pleas

Your judgment
is your constriction

You thought you're
the jailor?
when you're really
the prisoner

Stuck in a prison
with cells full of distiction
Right or wrong
ignoring shades of grey

you're sentencing your self

We often forget,
there is a price
to be paid,
in judging another
That is putting
your self up
for others judgement.

there's a man
throwing pennies
up up in the air
heads or tail, yes or no

copper distraught
met silver uncertainty
wondering when will
gold find their way

metal in our blood
trouble magnet they say
isn't that what we're built for?

crystal clear, we'll never be
too muddled with impurities
but that's okay,
good samaritans are dead anyway

By nabs

I think maybe
you're over reacting
a lil bit

Too much electron,
not enough protons
You need to stabilize

Playing overlord
is so fun when
Everyone pretend
not to see
that power
can be mercury to
someone's mind

There's no nuclear
in your veins
I assure you
I'm already a radioactive zone

no matter
how many radium
goodbye's you spew,
you can't convince me
to give you my francium

Oh, really
don't try to
blow it up
you really don't
got the talents for that

Just stop trying to be
what you're not
meant to be
Only carbons can
be diamonds

Cobwebs and dews
The creak of the white fences
Of ruins long forgotten
Of places names unknown

This is the road for the wanderers
For the wanderers to be lost
For the lost to be forgotten
For the forgotten to be unknown

To pick up this dream means to forfeit
But never fear
Monsters are long gone from here
In this ruins of unmarked

The road is long
Twist and turns, may it bound your bones
Creaks run rampant, wild wild things
To rest means to drown

A man will ask,
For your most important woes
The price of the answer
Will lead you through

Do not fear, this ancient times will unwound
Pebbles made from time
A maiden left untouched
To tempt those whose uncouth

Justice, in this domain
Is straight as the lining,
Between the sky and the earth
And it will never be bent
For it is silver and they stay through

Thunders rumbling,
Will be your company
For the wind,
They'll be your enemy

Red poppies,
Grow as every step you took
Wishing you luck
For those who sleep in this road
will never wake up

Do be weary,
For sure the road will let you astray
Cause taking straight lines
Will lead you to not be found

This will be an asylum
For those who embraces
Let joy overwhelm
To let euphoria posses

There is a price
For utter abandonment
Balance needed to be strike
Their names will never appear in reality

But do not fret,
Crystal and porcelain epiphanies
Littered this road,
Glimmering ephemerally

One of them,
Will lead you to the end of the road
For that is the only way to go back

By Nabs

Quiet reign over
Happiness accompanied with dread
The air stills, water freeze
Waiting

Alway waiting
The tell tale of burning ozone
How the wind blew the grass
Hard, unforgiving, preparing

Crystalized thunder
Icy fire, burning Ice
Skin prickles with anticipation
Dread and elation, what a company

Throwing sticks and stones
Fire ready and burning
Burning burning
Wishing to never be put out

To take all who dares

Shades and echo
Silence that sound too loud to be real
The drumming of hearts
Paper cranes fly wildly that day

Message bottles bobbles
Nowhere, they're going to nowhere
Nobody is singing
Song about the war of future and past

The mountains stood strong
For this is a battle they had long known
Never fear, even If they weren't here
But still the animal cower and disappear

The farmers elation
Palpable in the air
For they dance, the dance of harvest
Whilst the air becomes stiller and stiller

Waiting grew taller and longer
Drawn taut
Stings were plucked
No sound, silence, stillness

Sailors, look at the horizon
Praying to the gods that they believe in
To be able to come home

For the sirens are singing silently
About the storm that is coming

Sleep
Nowhere near oblivion
Like ice put out by fire
water crystalized by thunder

the bright colored sand
seems like delusion to me
shooting pebbles like it was nuts
like human does not bleed

fire that went out
thunders that went in
more so, more so, more so.
the chanting that never ends

on and on again
until the land is carved to the sky

By Nabs

Have you ever heard
the sound of the wind dying?

It sounds a lot like your hoarse crying.

Broken moons, stifled sobs
smell of cardamom and pain.
Angry strokes, lightning brush
across this singed canvas.

Paint me with a storm.
Paint me with a storm.

Guttural rumble of disagreement,
muted in its pallor.
Second hand embarrassment
is lethal to the skin.

Broken bottles, broken souls
stuck in a machination of malfunctioning systems.
we never had control in the first place.

We put energies in our sorrows,
forgetting to store them for our backbone.
No wonder we can't stand straight
and look up to the sun.

"Amnesia", we would plead.
Cause all we remember is how to bleed.

Have you ever heard
the sound of the wind dying?

It sounds a lot like the day we went crashing.

Today,
you gave me a
room full of silence
it was so loud
that you can't hear
my heart breaking.

Confidence says,
"Please tell me how to stop being an abstract thought, hiding in the corner of your mind. Cause I want to be real and fight beside you."

Don't forget :
a room is
only as big
as how wide
you open
your mind.
To believe
is to see.

No, I do not want to be your yes.
Nor I want to be your no no no.
None of the no. None of it.
None of your yeses going to change my no's
I told you no not yes.
You know no does not equal to yes.
If that happen then I would still never say yes.
No, I told you how many times no yes.

Yes, no.

She's the girl that'll give you cavity.
Dusted with soft white sugar.
Hair fluffly like cotton candy.
Skin as brown as caramels.
Lies as sweet as
the dimples when she smiles.

By Nabs

XII. December
    A woman was humming a winter hymn.
She wore a thick Russian cloak, and her fingers were tapping the stained glass. Snowflakes framed her eye lashes. Vicious wind were hitting her old bones, weariness settled deep in her chest.

She had been away far too long.

Looking at a window, she saw her reflection.
Her eyes were sharp cold blue, but it was sunken and there were frozen tear tracks on her cheek.

Her fingers were gnarled, and wrinkles marred her face. Her used to be golden hair, was as white as snow.
She barely remember the days now.

A baby wail could be heard coming from a house, lit with thousand warm candles.

Looking up, she realized that she's a grandmother now.

XI. November
  The man pulled out his cigarettes, his riffle by his side. Sitting in front of his porch, with a glass of scotch, remembering the horrid symphony of gun shots. His shoulder was aching.
He had been a soldier, he had been at war, and now he was in his house.

But he was still lost in the desert.

He gripped his glass tighter as the deaths that he had caused flashes before his eyes.
He felt cold at the knowledge that settled in the pit of his heart.

He was not a war hero, he was a murderer.

The glass shattered.

X. October
  The wind blew her bright hair. It was similar to the color of autumn leaves and burning fire. She was wearing a scarf the color of lion, Lilies crowning her head.

She was holding up a shield.

A feeling of warmth, like one would get after drinking warm chocolate, washed over her. Her bright green eyes was filled with fondness at the sight of her stag cooing over her baby.

Ravens were cawing over her head, an omen.
Her face was grim, she knows they're not going to last any longer.

Death was arriving.

IX. September
    A bright yellow dot could be seen moving in the forest. It was a boy who was wearing a rain coat.

He was running around, playing by him self.
Diving into a pile of leaves, jumping over tangled roots, climbing trees, and picking apples.

He didn't tell his mother where he had gone.

The sound of trickling water lulled the freckled covered boy away. He stood in front of an old abandoned house. The smell of ginger bread was wafting through the air.

He ignored the hanging body on the tree, and put on the fallen hat.

For the first time, he felt he was home.

VIII. August
    He was named after the emperor. The one history called a legend. His parent had hoped that he could escape the chain of slavery that had shackled their family for generations.
He wondered sometimes if he skinned his skin, would he stop being a slave?

After all he would be pink instead of brown.

They branded him like a cattle. Passing him down from one master to another. Calling him pretty for his species. The marks always burns when he felt like his dignity was stomped on as if it didn't matter.

He knows it didn't matter to them.

The day he broke the chain, the grass turned red instead of withering

VII. July & VI. June
    They were born from the same chrysalis. Spun from silk and privilege. Yet one got tossed away and the other were put in a gilded cage.
Separated.

The boy with corn silk hair and gleaming pearly wings was staring out of his room. He was locked with gold in his little cupboard. Only to be let out when they needed to show him off.

He stared down waiting for his shadows.

The girl with iridescent eyes and tattered black wings had lived in the ruins all her life. Her small frame was littered with cuts and the harshness of life.
But she stood strong, her back unbending.

She stared up at her light, and asked for his hand.

Fate decrees that neither could fly, with out the other.

V. May
    The market was bustling with people. A middle aged woman stood in her stall, selling vegetables and fruits. Her nephew was bringing her baskets full of wild berries for jam. He was 6 years old with a gap toothed grin and untamable hair.

His eyes were electric yellow.

The woman stared at the boy sadly. Remembering that day on the moor when wolves slaughtered her sister's family.
She thanked him and ruffled his hair. The boy gave her an abashed smile.
She noticed a man with a nasty smile, shooting her nephew a predatory look. The man approached her stall, asking to buy apples while looking at her nephew ravenously as if he was hungry for him.

She understood what she have to do.

She put on her sweetest charm and gave him an apple for free. The man nodded, appreciating the offer. Said his thanks and went back to the shadows.

The man didn't notice that the apple he had just bitten were kissed by Belladonna.

VI. April
  A mute girl was sitting in the palace garden. She braided flowers into her hair, adding pale green ribbon with a flourish. She wore a white dress with lace on it's border. She looked like a sacrificial lamb.

A knife was lying on the floor, she had just cut her hair short.

As she keep braiding, she dreamt of home.
Of the deep blue water, gentle waves lapping at her body, sea shells that she liked to collect, pearls braided in her hair, about exploring the oceans with her sisters.

She could barely move her legs, now.

She realized, belatedly, that maybe the price was too heavy.

III. March
    The marching band passed the town that day. Trumpet, drums, cymbals, and xylophones were shouting in harmonies. A marvelous fusion of sound, creating joy behind them.

A teenager, with curly hair and sun kissed skin, was staring at them in awe.

A violin was clutched on his hand, the last gift from his father. It was his first time seeing a marching band. He wonders if the delicate moan of his violin would complement them.

He knows that it won't, but it wouldn't stop him from wondering.

He was not his father.

II. February
  A family of three was preparing their dinner in the kitchen. It was the birthday of the son.

The mother was busy preparing the roast, cutting up vegetables and spicing the meat. The father was helping the mother preparing the roast, he was making the mashed potatoes. They were dancing around each other, as they navigate the kitchen.

Their son, who have a cherubic face, watched them with adoration.

One threw an onion at the other, the other caught it. Exchanging tools and spices with an easy glide. Kisses were traded, intricate steps were taken.
They both move with trust on their heel, and souls entwined.

Love was still in the air, even after all the storms.

Their son understood that no one can take the matching arrows embedded at his parents back.

After all, they stabbed it them self.

I. January
    A mother was lying on a hospital bed. Green buds were peeking out from the snow.
She had just given birth. Her breathing was labored as she struggles to breath. A frown appeared on her face when the nurse gave her a bundle to hold.

It was her baby girl.

The baby opened her eyes and let out a gurgling giggle. It was the most beautiful sound the mother had heard.
Big doe eyes, that resembled her mother's, watched as wet tears were falling from her mother's eyes.

The mother clutched her daughter tight against her chest.

Realization struck her like ligtning,
She knows that she couldn't give her baby away.

By Nabs

My love is
black black black
In their certainty
grey grey grey
In the way they make me see
white white white
In the way i know
your red red heart
would never beat
in tangent with
my monochrome heart.

By Nabs

This cup of joe can **** you
Coffee beans with cyanid
Nights are wild and they are young
Black black with out sugar, please.

Sip those robust liquid
Like you would ask for forgiveness.

Scalding hot on your tongue,
Embers are dying in your eyes.

Take another cup, take another shot
Inject your self with self doubt
Remembering the pills wont help
Things are dying inside your head.

This cup of joe can **** you
Chocolate and overdose aftertaste
Close your eyes and breathe at last
No sugar, No. No hope.

Stir it a thousand times, counter clockwise
Taste different cause of
The anxiety staining your teeth
Pearly white no more.

Mint and a hint of insanity
Bruised lips, dead shot eyes.

Don't put the pills there, never ever there
Contaminate your self but not this cup.

Take sips, don't gulp
You gotta savor the flavor
Death on your tongue
Marvelous blend that ascend time.

This cup of joe will **** you
You order more and more
It taste bitterer than before
But the tears have never fallen to the floor.

If you're trying
to open
someone's mind
Consider
whether or not
They want their minds to be opened

After all
One cannot open a door
that's locked from the inside.

By nabs

There's a girl dancing to the music of life.
Summer eyes, summer child.
Playing air guitar with imagination,
drumming her little feet to the earth.

Dancing her own little rituals.
Hops and twirls. Giggling.
Jumping and clapping,
letting the joy course through her little body.

The girl grinned impishly at me,
mischievous glint in her eyes.
She run towards me and grabs my hand,
whisking me away to dance.

Each spins and hops,
Taught me how to laugh.
How to stop and wonder and dream and dream.
How to let life be breathtaking.

I didn't realize I had forgotten the simplicity of joy.

There's a little boy with sparrow wings.
Woven from the stars and the shadow.
Hands full of carefully gathered sand,
golden golden sand.

He let them go, slipping through his finger tips,
watching them get swooped away by the wind.

"Why do you do that?"
The question slipped out of my mouth.
Like an eager bird flying for the first time.
That startled me.

I thought I had long forgotten how to let my questions out.

The boy gaze at me,
His eyes swirls like oil spills
with it striking rainbows that looks
young and old on his face.

He doesn't smile, he doesn't need to.

He take my hand and guide it towards the ground,
sinking it down the golden golden sand.
Gently closing my fingers to cup at them.
They feel soft, like silk and lips.

They tickle and I loosen my grasp.

As each grain flies away from my clutch,
Flashes of images floods my mind
like a storm of wings, each
was made from memories and carries feeling.

The birth of a daughter seen by the father,
the first time someone went to the sea,
the giddiness of two people falling in love,
the sunshine reflected on your eyes.

A hand brushed a stray tear away.
The boy doesn't smile, he doesn't need to.
I didn't realize I was crying.
He looked at me and I understand.

Like little kids saying goodbye to their friends,
Memories are meant to be let go.
To not clutch them tight as to not destroy them.
Memories are too easily tainted.

So I open my palms again and said goodbye.
I'll know they'll come back, like little kids know
their friend will be back the next day.

I have never felt this free before.

There is a baby with a tuft of black hair on top.
Bundled with innocence and wonder.
She had her eyes open, she giggled.
It's her first laugh, it sparkles like fairies.

I picked her up and hold her close to me.

I run and run and run until
there's wing on my back.
Taking a leap of faith, and jump.

Soaring toward the blue blue skies for the stars
with life pumping through my veins.

By nabs

This ship is marred
with fingerstains of life
trying to prove,
they aren't dying.

This ship is anchored
with guilt and regret
poisoning the waters
with toxic souls
it tried to disperse

This ship is filled
with gaping holes
walking around with
An abyss for a heart.

This ship is set
for a journey
no one coming back from.

By Nabs

The day you went away
you rob all the colors
in my world
along with the stars
in my eyes
leaving cracks
all over my surfaces
making me numb to
the fact that
life still goes one
because
my heart had stop
beating
and you taught me
that means
I'm already dead

Arrogancy,
The fall of the heart.
The block of the mind.
The destruction of potential.

How to get used to loneliness:

You don't.

They tried to
               erase us
                   with
               correction pen

Running over us
              with white

As if there's
              something wrong
         with the melanin
                       in our skins

Forgetting
             That we all
                    are
              pink and red
                           inside

I told you, I don't remember.
Why there's little clumps
of jasmine in my hands
or why I feel hollow all the time.

I told you, I don't remember.
Why I woke up alone in the grave yard.
Not knowing if it was
rain drops or tear tracks on my cheek.

Why there's mud stain and rusted flakes
on my favorite white dress
that can't seem to be gone.
No matter how many times I try to rinse it all away

You asked me where my brother was.
I said, "He's abroad."

I lied.

I don't remember the last time I saw my brother.

Nor the sound of his laughter.
The way he have dimples when he smiles
or the way his eyes would shine bright
every time someone mentioned his family

What I remember are
The weight of a pebble in my palms.
The way your throat will clog up, just like choking,
after sobbing and bleeding out your heart.

These days I wake up crying for something
I can't remember.

Though I do remember,
flashes of quick silver images.
How water can chill you down to the bones,
making your teeth chatter and your heart numb.

How it could fill up your lungs.
Making them heavy and cold
with fluid and guilt.
Drowning you down to the bottom.

Though I don't know how I remember that.
I have never drowned before.

I don't remember how my brother's room looked.
I don't remember where the bed was
nor was it tidy or messy.
I do remember the walls were light blue.

The same kind of blue, painted on frozen lifeless body.

I haven't been in his room for quite a while.
I tried knocking but my hands trembled.
Breathing becomes impossible.
I woke up curled up on the guest bathroom floor.

Though his face grew hazy in my mind.
Funny thing is,
I still remember his favorite book.

Of course I do, after all this time
we spent fighting over the book.
Although I can't seem to find it in the library, now.

Maybe my brother misplaced it.

There are pictures of him in our houses,
but my eyes seems to skip them entirely.
Cause all I see was his lips
being bluer than the sky.

I know he never had hypothermia before.

Today I woke up to
a tattered book on the kitchen table.
Soaked with water deep to its spine
picture peeling away.

The book is a copy of The Brother Lionheart,
His favorite book.

There's a black card on the table.
An invitation for a funeral
dating back to two weeks ago.

My brother would laugh at that.
He said that if he dies he wants his funeral to have an invitation.
"To cheer things up!"
He said with a grin I can't remember but know exist.

There's a sound of something shattering.

I woke up in my brother's bed.
His room was stripped bare,
naked with out all the posters and his existence.
There's a wilted bouquet of lilies
and jasmine in his room.

I told you, remember.
I don't have a brother.

You gave me roses
That grew in my heart

                    Never told me
   That their thorns
   Going to pierce my lungs

  Making it harder to breath
           When you're around

She's a garden no one wants.
Eyes full of marigolds.
Nightshades stained lips.
Soil drenched with blood.

A girl is sitting in the corner
Shaking her body back and forth
Garbled sounds coming out of her blue lips
Blue lips like the pills scattered on the floor

She is drowning and no one is helping

Her body shook and shook
And shake and shake and shake
Rattling from the wind, the dark, everything
She cough and cough, blood staining her dress

Her flat belly becomes big and round
Big and round, big and round
Full and brimming with life
It is a life she never wanted

Fingers are touching her
Long and gnarly, short and smooth
Leaving bruises, painting her in oil and smudges
Violating her down down below

She is littered with cuts
Wounds upon wounds
Festering and infected
The blood was no longer red

Her skin is a myriads of explosive color
Her blood an abyss of pain and sorrow
She is a shell, a shell of skin and misery
She is human no more

She is screaming

She is screaming as hooks pierced her arm
Made from words and arrows
She is being yanked and yanked and yanked
Stretched thin to the bone

Bone that no longer held the marrows of life

A hollow man cradled her hair
Playing with her hair in a mocking gesture of love
He trailed his fingers down her spine
Wanting to break it and make it arch

She is limp in the hold, frozen in disgust

Knives is touching her skin
Slashing words and possession unto her
Pulling life out of her eyes
Eyes that used to hold stars and universe

He force himself upon her
Calling it an act of love love love
A mockery, a desecration of something holy
She is filled with fluid, disgust, and blame

Her shoulders are being bent and bent
Askew in so many ways
Like herself that is no more
She wonders if now she's an it

Wonder if she could erase her self from existence

She screams

Abyss pooled from her legs
Dead stars haunting her
Her legs are spread spread wide
Bones, she felt like her bones are breaking

She screams and screams
Until her throats are torn into shreds
Voice traded into air and silence
No longer can she speak, no longer

She is being burned with pain
Ice and fire and lightning
Pain sharp, so so so sharp
Like the hooks that is holding her like a marionette

She pushed and pushed at the pain
Wanting to stop to stop feeling
Feeling anything, feeling life, feeling existence
Blood is pouring out between her legs

The man smile a beatific smile

He kissed her temple
Licked her earlobe
Croons and croons and croons
Pushing into her more, even when she is pushing out

She is pushing her life out, gasping for death

He is choking her life back into her
"No, dear you will not escape me"
He bites her throat, marking her with vileness
Entitlement and pain and ****

She does not obeyed

She pushed and pushed and pushed
Pain so overwhelming it numbed her
There is life and she wanted it gone gone gone
She screamed silence and break

The baby comes out covered in blood

The man is dead, is alive, is morphing
The man becomes the baby
The baby becomes the man
She vomited everything, her lungs, her heart

Her soul

Laughing hysterically with abandon
She hates everything so she laugh and laugh
Not noticing that the Abyss have heed her call
That she is being embraced by it

The Abyss plunged into her the same way the man does

There is a girl sitting in the corner
Shackled in chains, caged with neurons
And she is drowning and drowning and drowning
No one could save her, not even me

Cause how can you save your own shadow?

Someone told me once
that the stars are dead,
And what was left behind
Were the remains of time
and decaying humanity.

By Nabs

The well of words
Deep down in this breathing heart
Are drying and cracking before they reach,
This sinning fingertips.

These words
Taste dry, musty. Parching throats.
Crackled in the air
Louder than thunder and your screams.

As the spinning wheel
Stop.
Stopping forever.
Stop. Pricking blood from your vessel.

Embroideries, tapestries
weaved from the threads of life.
Unbound, unraveled
Marveled in the way they are being broken down.

Set fire to us,
And you'll see.
How prettily we all would burn
Inside this tomb, we called home.

Sometimes I think
I saw him in my dreams
But I cannot seem to recall his face
He's been lost to me, ever since

By Nabs

They call me a fun sucker
For pointing out that was wrong
For speaking out
About the discriminations that rot humanity

Some asked," why are you like this?"
"Why can't You just lay back and stop being so serious?"
"Why can't You just let it be?"
Or in other words 'why can't i shut up?'

Just because

I'm tired of having to swallow down my words
To be told to swallow down so many times
As if that is what all I'm good at
They don't care if I was choking

Just because

I'm tired of people carelessly making jokes
About issues that shouldn't be made fun off
Shouldn't be made into the **** of a joke
Cause while you're laughing, They're screaming

Just because

People like to slap labels on other people
Cause it's easier to box them down
Into simple brand than as a complex being
Easier to determine which one superior, which one inferior

As if we are products, not human

They called me a rebel
For defying the norm
For not accepting that skins colors and what you have down your pants iare limits
For not conforming to their rules to the playground

Just because they say it's right, doesnt mean its true

They say, ignorance is bliss

But I don't think I can sleep, ignoring the screams just cause it didn't happen to me

Cause how can they blind them self
To the injustice of the world
The way they pile the bodies
And set them aflame

Just because

I will not hide my self, any longer
I will not be ashamed of who I am
And for that I will fight

For that I will not bow down to oppression

I will not bow down to any kind of oppression

You can stick your silly labels to my back
Kick me on the sides, Beats me up
You can try to bring me down

But I will promise you
I will drag you down to hell with me too

Cause this is my home also
None of you, big kids could bully us to go
Cause you think you could burn me down
As if I am a house made of sticks

Didnt you know that to light me up means that you going to burn too?

For I fight for what is right
Even if in this ocean of poison there's barely any lights

By Nabs

    When I was little, I dreamed of being a princess.
Just like so many others do.

Imagining all the fun we will have.
Of Tea times and dressing in the finest dresses, wearing tiaras, and jewels,
      all day of the week.
              Princesses only seems to dress prettily in the stories.
                
We all dreamt of the same thing,
        Happy endings that always come at the end, cherished and pampered.

        Most of all loved by everyone.

  Princesses were always loved because she was inherently kind. Inherently docile.
Inherently pure and innocent.
              Inherently beautiful.

( Remember, Your purity is your worth)
                  
                            None of them was because
                                  people respected them.

All of them was because
Of their beauty.

      ( A princess have to pamper their self to utmost perfection, your beauty define your worth)

Princess is a symbol of perfection.
                                      Symbol of Divinity.

A guideline for Goodness and womanhood.
                Standards that shaped and pushed them self to little girls to be molded into a perfect piece of art that they them self would rarely get to enjoy.

( Art pieces, after all cannot admire them self)
    
                We have to strive for divinity and no less, because less means
        we will be condemned to be the wicked ones.

( No one bother to tell us that it is unreachable.)

        No one wanted to be the wicked ones because history burned who ever were branded as wicked.

      ( we stood on a world
piled with their ashes
          and everyone will claim it as a victory)

        One of the lesson, that these tale seems to croons that there is no in between for us.
        That there is only two archetypes for girls to grow up to.
The Princess or the Evil Witch.

Choose, the tale seems to shout.
            ( be obedient, be submissive).
                    (Good girls)
                ( Princess lives happily ever after).

(Fight, rebel, speak)
        (Bad girls)
  ( Evil witch will always be burned)
      
  ( This are the endings we have set for you, girls)

          Back then, after going home from school, I would read tales about princesses from all over the world.  
From Africa
                to Europe
                              to Asia.
      I devoured them like they were gospels, Laughing delightedly when the princes save the day then marries the princess, and frowning when the villain managed to defeat the heroes.
Happy endings,
      Happy endings.
( Death, is the only happy ending we will really get)

    I learned that to have a happy ending, a prince need to save me,
                from my self.

( Every princesses need a prince,
for a proper princess cannot save herself.
                
            You need to be saved to be complete)

      My parents called me their little darling princess, Their crown jewel,
              Their most cherished treasure.
They would hug me, clothed me, spun me into a figurine that they like.
Telling me that I am theirs.
Flesh and blood,
              Glittering orbs of red.
                                          Ownership.
Another princess tales, which plot echoes through out time. Beggars can't be choosers.
                              The same way a princess can't  choose anything for them self.

The tale said,
    A good daughter is an obedient daughter.

Shouting and screaming is prohibited.

( Lower your voice,
        princesses don't raise their voice.

They speak softly as soft as the flutter of butterfly wings

            or preferably they don't speak at all.)

      To be a princess, foremost is to sacrifice your whole being,
      To subdued your self
          To stop being human,
                and start being a treasure, a jewel.
Being fought over for the rights of possession.

( Isn't that the most highest pedestal you can put someone to?)

        As I grew up, these tales keep following me.

( Dont run, princesses never run.
                                    They submit.)
Of Snow white,
      Who was treated as if she was only an object of desire after the prince saw her dead in the glass coffins.
( You're mine, you got that?)

Of the sleeping beauty silence,
            that was taken as a consent to ravished her until she woke up because she gave birth to twins.
( Babe, you like this don't you? You have to, you're made for this)

Of the little mermaid plight,
      Discarding herself completely to be accepted on the lands, trading her voice and being in excruciating pain for her prince.
                        The one who will not love her.
( You look horrible in that, change into something prettier and for god sake, put some make up on)

Of Atalanta, who could not escape marriage
              and forced to marry a man she lost a race  unfairly to, because her father decrees so in the first place.
( My princess, you can't be with that person.  
                    They're not suited for you,
                              We want the best for you.
You don't know what's best for you. )
              
Of Bawang Putih and Bawang Merah,
                Echoing the morals, how your beauty define you, how you will be evil if you are less than beautiful.
( She's ugly, that's why she's jealous of her)

Of Putri Hijau ending,
            That to be free from being under the power of men, you have to jump into the ocean.
(You are mine, forever)

Of the archetypes for Good and Evil,
            ****, *****,
                      *****, Saint,
                              Witch, Princess.
( A good girl says yes, A bad girl say no)

How The Tales, often than not,
                          parallel each others, as if trying to drill them self into our subconsciousness with these toxic message.

( Princesses belongs to the people.
                      She never belongs to herself. )

These unspoken rules followed me into adulthood.

            Subconscious message of how to be  loved you need to be less.
You need to submit,
to be obedient,
docile,
pure,
innocent,
        most of all, you need to be beautiful.

      That beauty is how you're going to get your prince. Never it is because your wit, your courage, your wisdom,
what use do you have for them if you don't have a pretty face.

                No husband will find ever find you.

( Remember, wicked ones doesn't have a prince to set them straight.

                You don't want to be a wicked one,
                                                  Now do you?

So spread your legs, and lay down.
Take it. Atta girl!  )

These unreachable standards, bound us the same way they bound people feet to be dainty.
                They are rules for us to be less human, to be a thing.
      A princess, in this world is another term for a possession.

            (There is no such things as an independent princess, object need owners)

The stories always put them in gilded cages.

Once I asked why?
          Why do they need to be caged?
Why can't they be free?
        
The tales said that beautiful things needed somewhere to be kept.

The tales said many thing,
        seemingly innocent but  screaming about our worth, girls worth in the society.

(You need to be pretty for anyone to love you.)

(You're good if you are obedient.)

(You have no need for your voice,
                Silence is the only voice you need.)

(You're made to just lay down and take it.)

(You need a man to complete you
                                      and set you straight.)

(Never be yourself.)

I grew up wanting to be a princess,
Just like many others do.
        What we realized, to be a princess
                                  We have to be a slave.
                                      We have to be dead.

By : Nabs

At dusk, I woke up to find that my whole body alight with pain
From the very tip of my hair
To the very tip of my toe
A pain that struck me deep as it is rooted in me

My head feels like it is not my own
Where my thought are filled with images
Where they took every single memories
Just to replay it over and over again

Although it is some specific memories that they play

( I should have known it was you)

They are images of you
Either the way your eyes disperse the light
Glinting with rainbows as you laugh
Or the tingling of your voice when you speak

Or the little quirks that you have
How you scratch your head when you're confused
Or how you tighten your fist and hold it close to you when you are in anger
Or how you look pained every time someone mention your father

Even my subconsciousness was not safe from you
How in the nights you seep into my dream
And how my mind seem to speak your name with reverence
As if you are a saint and i am a sinner begging for forgiveness

Not to mention
My head feels like it know you more that I know my self
How my consciousness remember every single way your body move
How you react
How you never seem to notice how breath taking you are

You do take my breath away, you know
You make lungs constrict
My throat sore and my windpipes clogs
My chest ache

Just from seeing you brush a stray strand out of your face

( No wonder I always choke)

I know now that you are poisonous
Because often you made my mind sluggish
How you made my tongue numb
Struggling to just say something

I feel like I could die from just being in your presence

Some how, I wouldn't mind that

You seem to have taken over the control
Of the beating of my heart
It is not mine anymore
You took it from me

And i'll let you do it any day

How do I not realize that you poison me?
That you attacked me

No

I couldn't say attack when I, my self are a part of perpetrating the crime

I let you poison me with your kindness
And I succumb to it
Kindness is very lethal I find
Very potent

You are causing an infection
Spreading across my heart
Making it rot
The stench is cloyingly sweet with a hint of pain

I think I know what poisoned me

You make my heart a bruised little thing
Banging across my rib cage
Sometimes I can feel it to thump so hard
I wonder if there are fractures littering my ribs

It is a miracle I do not get a stroke
With the way my hearth clenches
Every so often just by a single word you said
No matter how un important it is

There is something growing inside my body and I know I am diseased

I'm going to be erratic soon, at the rate this is spreading

The rate this is spreading

Why

I know you planted some seeds inside of me
And how it is growing in my body
The pain is caused by them
How it is thriving alive, and ******* me dry

******* life out of my marrows
Making me prone to bend and break
To bend and beg
For you, I would do it in a heart beat

Why do you do this to me?

You do not intend this for me
As I do not intend to succumb in the first place
But intentions will always be intentions
If we do not manage to realize it

One of my symptoms is butterflies in my stomach
How did the caterpillars get in there?
How did my stomach turned into their cocoon?
It does not feel beautiful, the butterflies in the making

They feel like acid and agitation

Now I am trembling

You make my whole body quake
My bone to ache and shake
It is as if you made them corrode,
Maybe that's why my knees shake just because of you

How it will always tremble
How you make my hands tremors
How psychosomatic it is
And I seemed to caught this sickness right to the bone

Maybe I tremble because you are more than I can handle

You with your kindness
Your attempt to become normal
Your fear of closed space
And how you would unconsciously scratch the silvering wound across your heart

Maybe because yours do not rot, you infected me and rotted mine instead

( There is something wrong with my eyes)

As i said, not only that you have took over my heart you also took over my mind

I seemed to still do not mind

My whole body is trembling
My lips quivering
I feel my eyes are watering
I feel my temperature rising

I feel horrible and yet I do not mind this pain
This high fever I am in
Comfort me some how, even if i know that
if I do not get well soon this might **** me

If I do not get it treated, it will **** me

But I am still hesitant to cure it
I do not want to be diagnosed
I do not want to
I do not want to

I am infected

(There's something trying to get out of my stomach)

I am trembling again
And you saw me trembling
You saw me
You smiled, and a snip could be heard

There are a string broken and it might me my sanity

Why do you deny that there was an earthquake
Why do you always deny that
Why
Why

Why do i still got close to you despite knowing
That the episentrum was you

You are a natural disaster
An epidemic
Spreading disease in your wake
You couldnt help it

No one could help being them self

You know I feel pain all over my body
But sometimes the pain felt so intense
That it renders me numb
How do I still exist in this paradoxes of mine

( I fear my liver have stop trying to purge this toxic away)

You make all my nerve go alight
I feel like i am burning
Ashes, ashes is what left of me
I have nothing left of me

You burned me down

But why do i feel so cold?

Yet, I do not mind
Because even as my heart is aching and in pain
Even if my whole body is black and blue
My body is not mine anymore

That was your betrayal, wasnt it?

(At least i still could bask in your presence)
You made me betray my self
(Such exquisite pain you cause me, i want more)
Why do you keep smiling as if you know nothing?

Maybe you do not know anything

(My legs just gave out and I am on my knees)

The poison is muddling my mind
I am poisoned
I already said that
I am trembling again

The butterflies got out of their cocoon today.

They were beautiful, and red with my blood

I still do not mind

You betray me
You causes pain to me
You poisoned me

I still do not mind

You smiled again today
It was like my medicine
I feel like i am addicted
You smile like you were happy with the way i am

I fumble with words now
There is something wrong with my eye
I cannot see clearly
Everything is blurry and tinted

(You said my eyes were beautiful)

I was happy but now I am sick

Why

My legs and hand do not properly work anymore
I feel like someone just pierce giant big hooks in them
Because i keep being pulled
I keep going back to you

My body is not my own, it is infected

You poison me and then you put parasites didn't you?
I was fine
Did you think your poison was a cure?
I did not have anything wrong with me

I did not
Now i do

( I can feel my mind crashing down, it feels like freedom)

The fever is going up again
My words are hazy
My arms taste sweet
I feel disoriented

Why do you need my to be like this?
Wipe that smile of yours
Wipe it
Please

(Please)

I am addicted to you
Your whole presence
I do not mind
What do i not mind?

I am sick, i am going crazy
You drive me crazy
You infected me and you rot me
I still do not mind

(There are tears dripping down my eyes, it is black)

I do not mind

(My heart just gave out)

I just diagnosed my self today

There is a paper thin difference between hate and love

I think it is the latter

I am such a liar

By Nabs
Dear, My Past Self
I've always wanted to say a lot of things to you.
A lot of things that I would like you to change.
A lot of things I wished that you haven't done
(Like chanting hate to your self before you went to sleep).

But that is not the reason I am sending this letter.

We both know how the past cannot be changed, the same way we both know that girls will be girls and boys will be boys (which to say not at all, after all we are a firm believer that time travel and The Doctor exist).

I know that you are going through a lot of forked roads, right now.
Gnawing your lips and making it bleed, from worrying whether to choose right or left?
Afraid, not to take the wrong road but to take the road that you want, the third road that you've always thought off but haven't gathered enough courage to step to.
It's okay to be afraid of where will you get stranded in life. Being afraid doesn't make you weak.

But at the end we have to move forwards even if it will literally kills you to leave the breathtaking view behind.

At this point in your life, You will realize that the handful of people that you surround your self with are more of an aquantaince than friends. And you will lose some of the friends you have because of the directions you each choose to go. You will feel lonely and miserable.

A deceptive man called depression will lull you with the promise of kindred spirits and ask you to let him be your companion. You will accept this offer, not fully knowing the Concequences because Depression, in your neighborhood, is something that goes unacknowledged.

You will regret the decision of taking his hands
(He's a good friend of mine now, I know how to deal with his quirks and how to cope with him living in my home. He still ask me to join him in drowning, but I learned how to say no)

    There will also be a lot of people telling you that you are a freak. They will consider that being true to yourself is a sin and you will try to repent by torturing your self with soul leeching mask that will leave you identity in tattered remains (You will spent years trying to piece it back, taking new pieces and discarding old ones).

They will also paint names on your back, whispers lies and making a game on how much they can stab you in one day. (You always come home bleeding, but you covered it with 1000 watt smile and perfume to mask that fact that the wounds are rotting)

Do not try revenge, it will leave you with a guilt so heavy that the act it self would only taste like ashes and sour your heart. (I know how horrible that is, and I know you'll still do it because this letter isn't about changing the past)

Remember that you have an untapped core of titanium in your backbone.

I know you will spend some sleepless night thinking of ways to not wake up in the morning, how to keep dreaming, and letting the ghost take you away. I know how close you are to the temptation and how you almost bitten that forbidden fruit because you wonder if it taste like peace. I also know that you will deny yourself.

(Because that's the lesson that was taught to us since the beginning )

Society may tell you, to **** all the things that are different in you. The things that make you see a shade differently, the things that make your angle on the world askew, the thing that you were (and still is) proud of. You will ask why, and they will reply because you are not perfect.

Do not listen to them because a few months from now you'll learn that their reasons are poison and you had been fed spoiled milk all along.
(You'll get some stomach ache that will feel like butterfly wings, you will mistake it for infatuation. It's not. You'll learn that infatuations taste like sugar and the coffee that you'll grow to like)

At this point, You will also painstakingly build a shrine, made of ivory and desperation, for the one you mistaken as a saint (she's not but she's still one of the best things that happen to you). A shrine for a saint that you tried to be, a saint that was hailed from loneliness and envy.  

The shrine will be the invisible wall that you will simultaneously try to tear apart while build it everyday. You will always be the one who ask for forgiveness because you were a faithful believer who believe that you are a despicable sinner.

(You are as much as a sinner as she is a saint.)

The day that you look her in the eyes and burn the shrine, the wall will crumble and fall like the Berlin Wall. Both of you will become human ( Also you will find that she is easily bribed with pizza and you will find that you are different than her and that's ok).

You will also learn the taste of despair from the way the mother dove cannot understand that your screams are the way you say that you are breaking and you just want to quit breathing. Instead mother dove will translate it into screams of rebellion, and you were always the obedient daughter first, than you are a teenage girl.

(You will learn how to jab your scream into paper, and turn them into poems. You will truly make some bad ones at first. Don't worry I'll help you along the way)

One day, between where you are now and where I am now, the world will give you a present of awareness to the danger of smiling to strangers. You will cry in the hotel bathroom and try to scrub your skin until it bleeds, trying to feel clean but only managed to ***** the tub. The world and mother dove will tell you that its your fault and you were asking for it (You're not).

You will lose the ability to smile uncaringly.
(This is one of the things I wish we would have keep)

You will slowly watch the colors that you know fade from the world, leaving it a mottled grey. The same state that you are feeling now. You will paint lies and invent new colors to just make you believe that there is something worth living for. You will hate your self more and more for your new painting skills.

Don't hate your self, You are a survivor and you are still fighting (I know you wouldn't listen to this, that you would keep hating your self until you met some people who will be kind to you and help you hold up your forts from the monster inside your skin. Like I said this isn't that kind of letter).

I know that the day you smashed all your anger and hurt into the table that you sleep on, was the day where you first tried to draw red lines with sharp markers on yourself. It will be messy but you were addicted and soon all you can paint was release and the occasional victorian girl

(You will not draw boys because you despise the way that you cannot draw wide board shoulders, like the one you hate on your self but admire on your brothers because those shoulders look like they could carry the world unlike yours).

You will lock your emotions tight, and learn how to hide from the world (It wouldn't last long, you have the universe inside you that is screaming to be shared to people. You haven't learned how to say no yet, unlike me)

You will learn that you are also an idiot, that karma exist and it bites you in the *** as a payback for all those tyranny. You will laugh your self until you're sobbing and fallen asleep. The next day you will bring a book to educate yourself to your school.

You will be turned into a mess of paint, anger, bitterness, and dramatic flair. The only one that will be left without blemish will be the mask (not the face beneath). The woodcutters will saw your legs of from you, and you will be left without the means to stand on the ground

But you still will crawl your miserable 90 kilogram mass of body to the next crossroad, and the next, and the next, and the next, like the stubborn mule you (we) are.

And you will came out of the personal purgatory, that the world gave you, with a brand new legs, soul liberally littered with scars, and a tuft wings on your back (Albeit still very tiny. It's okay, It's still growing).

You will learn to walk again with your new legs, the one that isn't smooth like baby skin but full with callouses from all the road walking.

You will learn that being full of flaws is ok, that not being beautiful is fine.

You will also learn that you are allergic to cats (You will deny this fact when you find out until you almost passed out because you couldn't breathe. But we will still cuddle with them because cats are the best)

You will meet new people, wonderful new people. The ones that you care so very much and the one that cares for you back. The ones that's just wonky like you. (You will love this guy and girl that I am close with, they're very kind and sappy like you are)

You will get to fall in love, like in the romance manga that you secretly love, and you will broke your own heart (I wanted to say for you to savor it more, but like I said this isn't that kind of letter).

You will be ok with it, and you'll gain the skills of cutting people from your life

You will learn that the world isn't kind to your gender, and you'll ask for equality ( the same way you're asking for a new set of paint, which is to say with a lot of care and thinking). You will learn that the world will always be a ******* but there will always be change.

(The world needs its balance)
You will learn that patience isn't really your virtue. But you will learn to grit your teeth and wait.

You will learn to love your self. Even at some point the hate still managed to rear its ugly head. You will learn to be proud of your self and yet still be kind.

And you will continue to write your own story, you will make mistakes and learn from them, you will make unexpected plot twist and pull your favorite cliche. You will learn that not all people like your story and that it's okay.

That is so very okay.

This letter isn't about telling you to change yourself.

It's my way of saying thank you.

Because darling, ****** well done (pun intended)
                                    Love, Your Future Self

P.S :
(This isn't the end, how about we meet up for tea later?)

By Nabs

07.00 AM :
I rubbed my eyes, blearily heading to the bathroom. Nightmare haunting my steps, as if it doesn't want to let me go.

Waking up was less dreadful than getting ready.

07.03 AM :
Turning the water knobs, was like an exorcism.
More aware, more awake, yet the blankness was still there. I wonder If today's the day.

The shower was cold as always.

I went out to fetch the towel, I never once looked at the mirror.

9.30 AM :
The first period was literature.
We're learning about the classic fairy tales. The teacher asked us for questions.

' Why does stories only tell about the fairest of them all?"

I managed to seal the questions back to where in belong.

9.55 AM :
The girl next to me received a crumpled paper ball.
She's very kind, and have the sweetest dimples.
As she reads, I can see her self esteem crumpling up, not unlike a paper ball.
I hugged her.
She asked, with hollowed voice, If I wanted to know what was written on it.

I shook my head, I already know what it is.
It's the same word, that still echoes in my world.

'FAT ***', was written on the paper.

12.30 PM :
Lunch was always a tiring affair.
Noisy chatters and baleful glare.
Distaste at how the line seems to never end.
Counting calories to pass the time.

Glancing at my wrist, deciding what food to eat based on the way my hands circle my wrist.

12. 34 PM :
Navigating cafeteria was even worse.
It's like avoiding the poisonous full course, that an assassin serve at you.
Bullying as a side dish, teenage drama as the main course, illusion of escape as the dessert.
The hustle and bustle of school life.

You are bound to accidentally consume that poisonous ****.

12.45 PM :
After I finished eating mashed potato and green beans, some hyenas approached me.
They clawed pleasantries and congratulated me.

"What for?"

"You are thin now! That's like so awesome! "

"But--"

"Also a friendly advice, I'd watch out for that mashed potatoes! Thinking about all that calories make me shudder!"

They walked away with a bounce on their feet, and howls so loud that all the others are staring at them curiously.
I am left bleeding out and nauseous at the encounter.

I clutched my stomach, feeling claustrophobic.

Desperately, trying to banish the thought of emptying my self.

12.59 PM :
The sound of flushing, hits my ear.
Shame crashed against me with doubled force.

I heave again. Body trembling.

The bell rang.

14.00 PM :
It's the last period for the day.
It was health class, and the teacher are telling us about the importance of food. That denying your self sustenance was equal to slowly killing yourself.
He looked at me, I pretend to not see.

Last week, a senior died of anorexia.
His body was too used of rejecting food that he couldn't accept their proposal again.
His stomach balked at the thought of getting back again.
He said goodbye to the world after 7 days of divorce.
The funeral was a messy affair.

I knew him.

15.00 PM :
I opened my locker,
Head spinning from all the people that approached me today.

They were people I barely know.
Congratulating me on losing my weight. Said I was prettier. Said I look good like this. Said I should keep being this way.
Asking me, what's the secret?

They all asked with a saccharine sweet smile on their face, as if it is a good thing.

As if being sick, is a success.

I wonder if they will still call me pretty when they see the bite marks on my knuckle.

15.20 PM :
On the way home I saw a burger joint,
my stomach was clawing for food but my mouth tasted like acid.

I wonder if drinking water will be enough to quench my hunger.

15.25 PM :
I passed a water puddle.

I saw a gaunt faced girl, with a pale complexion.
Her used to be lush hair turned lanky.
Her lips were literred with cuts and bite marks,  her eyes had faint purplish circle.
She looks so different from the person I used to know.

I continued my walk, trying to ignore the emptiness that had stayed in my bones.

16.30 PM :
My mother went into my room, when I was lying in my bed, counting my ribcage.
She looked at me, and a pained look crossed her face. I can see that she's holding back her tears.

She hugged me gently, as if afraid I will crumble with a touch.

I wanted to say that I wont turn into a wraith and vanish like my aunt, but I'm afraid it would be a lie.

"I'm getting better mom. Look here! I got more meat!," I said to my mom, hoping she believe the lie.

I know I'm turning fainter by the day.

She hugged me tighter, brushing my falling hair.

16.53 PM :
My mother left me her baked cookies, I nibbled on it. Wanting to stop being so starving. Ignoring the way my stomach want me to retch it.

I took another bite and count it as a success.

21.00 PM :
I stood in front of the mirror, that I had been avoiding for months, hoping to finally see my reflection.
Instead what I see was all the calories that I needed to burn,
The flaws that my body have,
And plans about not eating tomorrow.

I wonder if It's better to burn my self to ashes.

22.00 PM :
I went down stairs to grab some water.
I heard my mother crying to my father.
Said she's afraid I would vanish away from her.
Said she don't think she can take it any more.

Said she felt like she was cracking every time she sees me.

There were red gashes on her arm.

I swallowed the bile threatening to come out, ignoring how cold I feel despite the heaters on.

22.05 PM :
I smashed the mirror with my knuckle.
Rage and hopelessness was coursing my whole body. I let the tears and everything out.
The pain was sharp, and shards of glass were graced with my blood.

At that moment I saw my old self flashing in front of my eyes. So I kept punching the mirror until it is completely splintered. Shards of it was falling to the floor.

Satisfaction was addicting.

22.45 PM :
I went to sleep with gauze wrapped, still slightly bleeding, fist.
Blanket securely covering me, hoping the nightmares will not come today.

They did come, but they were nuzzling me.

07.00 AM :
I rubbed my eyes, blearily heading to the bathroom. My fist throbbed.

On the fractured mirror was written,

OUT OF ORDER:
This mirror is distorted by socially constructed
ideas of beauty.

Get a new one.

(P.S: You look fine as always)

By: Nabs

    When I was little, my mother often gave me flowers.

She would make me a crown of Primroses that smells like the day my father left us.
I would smile and dance a little twirl that had her smiling fondly. Her little princess, Said she couldn't live with out me.
I believed her.

Right before my mother decided to stop breathing, she gave me a bouquet of Lily of the valley.

I never knew that apology was poisonous.

    The day I turned fifteen, my grandmother gave me a book on flowers, It was written with green ink and bound in human skin. Said that It was family heirloom. Said that the universe needed someone who understand Hana. Said that I was born to understand only them and to remember that flowers are ephemeral.

I cradled the book, feeling as if the world was spinning. Opening it feels like coming home after a long time of drowning.

By the time I realized, a bush of Basil and beds of Petunias were growing in my home like ****. The color should have been red instead of purple.

      I met you when you were giving a bundle of daisy to a boy.
The boy scoffed and slapped the daisies to the ground. It's petal were falling apart just as blue and black blooms like an eager bud on you. Your body were taut as a string but your face was smiling, the kind of smile I couldn't decipher the meaning.

I picked the daisies up and asked if i could keep it.  You said only if I gave you my name.

You were wreathed with White Hyacinth and Pine leaves. It suits you.

    You told me one day, after you gave me a Bleeding Heart, that I needed to learn more than the languages that flower speak. That I needed to learn human.
I asked to you why do you say that?
You looked at me, with a little smile and a soft look on your face. Told me that I was too oblivious, I was more flower than human. I frowned and said," That hurts".
You laughter was much more sweeter than any Honeysuckle.

Though I still didnt understand your laughter nor the bleeding heart.

    The sight of our hands lacing together, looks much more delicate than Queen Anne laces. It made me aware of the dips of your lips, how warm your callouses hands were and the way you sometimes darts to sneak a glance at me with warmth in your eyes when you thought I wasn't looking.
I would feel my heart thumping loudly and I would disentangle our hands, trying to hide the tremors in my hands. You would pursed your lips and cracked a joke.

The next day I received a bouquet of Lilacs and red Peonies. It was too beautiful and I was already withering.

    You often asked If I was ok. I said I was. You would go rigid at that and started to pull down all the blinds to your soul. But that day when I answered I was ok, you gave me an Orange mock.
Said that I can trust you. You left with out meeting my eyes.

That night, I left a single Aster on your window sill. Hoping I did the right thing.

    The thing was, I was scared. Not of you, no never of you. That I swear on White Lilies and Myrtles that we bound ourself to.
It's just, every time I'm with you I want to bare my self naked. To let you see how the parasites are growing inside me, withering me as it did my mother. My grandmother would say that it is our legacy we cannot escape. To grow and bloom then wither ourself after the peak.

My Grandmother was a Sakura tree, My Mother an Ajisai, and I was a Tsubaki.

My mother was supposed to lived longer than me. But Hydrangeas needed their rain or they'll wither away.

    You told me once, that I remind you of Wisterias. Always enduring even after the cruelest storm. I grimaced and whacked you on the back. Said that you were an idiot for thinking that. You laughed again and tickled me until I asked for mercy.

I feel less Tsubaki and more human with you.

    I never let you go to my home because I could not bear the thoughts of you seeing the lawn strewn Marigolds, the grief that latched itself to the soil.
How the yards was filled with weeds and plants that was tangling them self to choke each other. How the walls was bare and the furniture was only enough to survive. The only thing that was lending colors to my home were the branches of Plum Blossom and bouquet of Lilacs and Peonies that seems to not wither away.

This home would not hold further.

    I gave you Blue Carnations the night when vines were choking my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe.

You said they were beautiful, and smiled a serene smile. I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I was leaking clear salty sap, that was rolling down my cheeks. I told you all about Hana and all about my family. How bare my home is and how you are my Iris, my good news, my good tidings.

You hugged me, not minding the sap that's staining your shirt. I didn't see the Red Camellia you were tucking in my hair.

  The day when I almost gave you Red Daisies and Lungwort was the day I found out that you had severe allergy to flowers.
That breathing their pollen would shorten your life as the breath you took became a privilege that you were slowly losing.
I asked, "why would you endanger yourself like that?".
"I love flowers, that's all", you said with an uncaring shrug.
The thoughts of you withering away, made me nauseous.

I went home throwing away the Daisies and Lungwort, Burning down the marigolds and Petunias.

The only thing was left were Hana and the bouquet of Lilacs and Red Peonies.

  I never get to told you that my roots was withering.

  When you found me lying on my home, covered with Primroses, Camellias, and Blood Red Poppies, I know that you knew. In your hand were Peach Blossoms and they were so very beautiful.
You cradled me close to your chest. Whispering that I will be okay, that It's unfair for me to do this to him.
"I know", I rasped. My voice was barely working and Black-Red sap was steadily tricking from the corner of my lips.

  When I saw my mother walking down to me, carrying a basket full of Sweet Peas, Volkamenia, and Yarrows, I understand what your smile meant the first we met.

It was Red Camellias, Love and acceptence

By: Nabs

A crystal clear laugh can be heard
Coming out from your lips
The fluttering of your eyelashes
Remind me of butterfly wings

You often speak quietly
Not out of shyness
But because you don't feel the need
To shout out your existence

The heaving of your chest
As you take each breath in and out
Made me remember the time
When you tried to choke it all down

Sometimes I see the spidery veins in your hands
And I think about lacing our hands together
How imperfect you are
And how the blood stains will always stays

We cried together, once upon a dream
I wipe your tears and you wiped mine
What comes off was a different thing
Yours were pain and mine was loneliness

Sometimes I wish I could trace your tear tracks
You never bother to hide them
You were never afraid to show it to the world
Maybe that is why they decided to burn you down

When I lay down, closing my eyes
And sleep under the willow tree
Often I see you hanging
Shards of crystals protruding from your back

Watching as the blood,
Drips down from your body
Pooling on the ground, turning the grass red Like the poppies you love so much

You often ask what love is
I would choke at that
And my answer would be lodged in my throat
Couldn't come out

Couldn't
Wouldn't
Such a paper thin difference

So I would reply with nonsense,
"Dude, why the heck would you ask me that? You're definitely asking the wrong person."
You would laugh at that
A loud free laugh as if it was wrenched out of you
And I saw you shatter more

There is one night
Where you sneak into my private corner
Where you smile mischievously
You left with a gift of awareness of your presence

You often fell asleep in the middle of a sentence
It was funny at first
And I would laugh
I could not find any humor after the tenth time it happen

Destruction often follow your footsteps
You would claim you do not intend it
I would pretend to not see
That you left wounds because you are wounded

"I'm happy", you abruptly claimed one day
You were lying through your teeth
But I could see that the cracks are getting wider
"I'm happy too", I said.

We laughed at how foolish we are

Sometimes time with you passes
Like sands through my finger
It is as if we have a hourglass
For our time together

I feel unsettled by that

We were pretentious
You and I
You would grin your **** eating grin
And offered me a high five

How could you be so perfect
With all the imperfectness you have
I never believed the word perfect
Until you with all your cracks, stood in all your glory

"I am drowning", you confesses to me one day
"In what?", I would ask
That night were a pitch black night
But I could feel your eyes boring into me

Later on, I would say that I am drowning too
You look at me startled, eyes glowing
Then you lace our hands
And letting the wind kiss your lips

I love you
But that is not and will not be
The words that will come forth from our lips
We know each other too well for that

There is a festival going on in the town
They're burning marshmellow in the bonfire
"And a body too," the wind whispered

You came to me that night with your edges melting and the thick smell of smoke

You said you're ashes now and you complement me

I wish I could hug you
That night when you're covered with ashes
But I did not allow my self
Because I, myself are dusted with glass

So we laced our hands together
Despite the blood and grime
Pain and Loneliness
What a beautifully wretched pair

Once we cried together
Wreathed by the ray of sunlight
Too bright for us to withstand
So we wipe each other tears

"Together", we said to each other
Tangling and knotting our hands together
Kissing each other temples while blood drips down
Falling together from the sky

By: Nabs

There is a dream where I woke up upon
Where you greeted me with a smile
At that point I closed my eyes
Again, for the hundredth time

There is a dream when I realize
That this ship is sinking
That the wave which carries this body
Is the one who sang this corroding melodies

There is a bird in this dream
Usually a raven, but sometimes not
Its eyes were made of fire
There is a heart pumping blood on the sand

There is a desert in this dream
Scorching hot and dry
Chapped lips and stolen tears
Under the tents, away from the glinting star lights

There tend to be sorrow here
It is like a piece of silk
and often the universe is cloaked by it
You just laughed when I said that to you

There are secrets in the air
Never before it taste so sweet
With a hint of bitterness at the end
Maybe that's why you're here.

There are diamonds, you say
And I asked, Where?
You just smile that secret smiles of your
There are tears streaming down your face

There is you in my dreams
Lips chapped and smiling
You keep walking away with gleeful steps
"Oblivion!", you said with abandon

Why is there always apologies hovering between us?
Ready to tumble from our lips

You hold out your hands to me
You asked me to take it

You asked me to take it

Do you remember the stars?
I once asked you
You just smile that sad smile of yours
And keep looking at the sky

At that time I wondered why do you keep smiling
When your eyes look so sad
When there are wound marks gracing your wrist
I never asked how they came to be

"I'm sorry", you often said
"For what?", I would reply
"This", you said with that sad smile of yours
I always wondered why would you say that

You hold out your hand to me
You asked me to take it

You asked me to take it

The first time i met you
There was a withering flower wreath laying on top on you
You were sleeping
Six feet under

I know you're bad for me,
but I'm addicted to you.
Cause you're my toxic anti depressant,
Couldn't do a **** thing but swallow.

Baby, your sugar coated lies rots my insides.

By: Nabs

Once there was a boy who was made of flowers
He had the prettiest smile and the happiest grin
One day he asked, "what are you made of?"
I shook my head, I do not understand

"You're different", he said
I would reply that I am not
His grin suddenly turned grim
He pointed at my heart, "You are"

He showed me his heart, you see
His paper thin heart
But as strong as the titanium
In the core of his backbone

At that point I still do not understand

Different

I clutched my heart
To see it ****** and such a mess
As frail as paper cranes
A thousand of these could not grant a wish

I saw a girl in the horizon
She's made from shards of glass
Brittle and fragile yet sharp
Lips painted red, Armed with knives

She said to me,"who are you?"
I replied,"I am my self"
She stared at me for a long time
"Who are you?"

My skin are steel
Yet my core had been ripped apart so many times
Until it feel as if each stitches were one
At this point i still do not understand

The girl sighed
Skipping stones and breaking bones
What a way to spend eternity
She grinned her razor sharp teeth

I still do not understand even at this point

There is a hill there, she pointed at the distance
Once there live a giant and a dwarf
The dwarf and the giant fought each other
Until what is left is...

At that point she gazed at the distance again

It does not have an end, that tale...

She asked me to dance, then
Took my hand gently, twirling me with out an end
I gaze at her eyes
The abyss are staring back at me

At this point I understand what they meant.

In the distance, I could see a shade of what once meant to be brilliant
Like a star who decide to fall down
Bringing apocalypse as its last performance

At this point i understood

At the end of this journey, I saw someone
Who shouted with all their might
"Why is the sky still blue?
Even if we're dead inside"

By: Nabs

Inhaling the musky air, in the attic that we began
Exhaling, when we realize we are still stuck there
Like two birds with one of their wings clipped to each other
Trying to fly and reach for the sky, desperately believing that they wouldn't end up right where it started

So we row and row in the endless stream of regret
With a boat made of our mangled wishes and hope for a better future
Dragonfly wings accompanied with our scream
Of the unfairness of this all

Soon we whispered, "Maybe unfairness is a form of fairness"
As we delude our self to thinking that our boat aren't as battered as they are
Aren't as littered with holes
There are more holes that we cannot plug with our fingers now

The ash tree back home are laughing

So we tangle our hands together, again and again, like we were at the beginning of the end
Hoping that our effort to found a way to fly would not be for naught
Choking back sobs and replacing it with laughter
"We're both doing fine", we said
Though, we still haven't perfected the laughter

It still rings hollow

There are boxes filling the attic
It reeked of happiness and fondness
Something that we lacked ever since we shed our individuality
Stained glass are littering the floor, making a mosaic of colors, rainbow reflected by the lights

We are crying and our hands are shaking

We gripped each other tight, breaking bones and binding us more and more
A jagged mash of flaws trying to not break down
Forgetting how to be individuals, how to not be an unit
Forgetting the most important part

We are left to our sinews now, stripped bare for all to see

We whispered our promises, about our tale, about our plans, about our dreams
We looked at each other, battered and bruised and so so broken, just like the day when we become us
We had thought we were invincible, no one will beat us down
Yet the our blood littered the earth, a sacrifice the earth asked from the beaten

The old dream catcher we made for each other still hung on the attic
It was made from ash wood with blue feathers
The webs are frayed, feathers turned gray, the woods are chipped, looking so frail and delicate, as if one touch can turn them into dust
We coughed blood from laughing at how that reflect us now

We lay down on the floor, counting up relation and ships, counting the wave that smoother the corals, counting up on how many times we regret our decision
It is a curse and we have no one to blame but us
Hate came mercilessly, like a tsunami crashing to the shore

Frayed edges of torn up ribbons
Of half forgotten day dreams and the smell of birthdays
Of the bitter taste of rebirth and death
We are tied with more than one ties and they want to see us squirm

We are exhausted
Like the carnation wallpaper peeling in the attic, the murals of the life, that we used to have are, lulling us to sleep
Each color and shape painstakingly painted with blood and imagination
They are telling us tales of shades, drowning us pleasantly in the river of sweet sweet sanctuary
To a place where differences were what we are

So we pretend we can close our eyes, dozing off, while betrayal perfume the air
Heady, intoxicating, repulsive
How it made life course through the dry channel
And how we both hate it

We each try our hardest to forget the sword that we held that is drenched in misery and ******, pretending that what we have in our pockets are candy, not poison
We tried and we tried and we tried
Here we lay down on the grave of our individuals

A place where I and you were buried, and we come to life

By Nabs

Cacophonies of sound, greeted us to this world.

For you, an angry guttural rumbles of disappointment.
Made courtesy of your father, whose glare would make your heart harden into steel but rot on the inside.
For me, was a choking silence that sounds too loud, too empty, too there.
But it was familiar and it was better than being completely alone.

The rain had been coming for a while.
Seeping into the marrows of our bones.
Drawing bitter smiles and bared teeth.
From two strangers that happen to collide with each other.

I want to say it was beautiful, but It wasn't.
War is never beautiful.

You were made from the finest china.
Crafted from ivory, patterned with delicate blue bamboos.
Your bones creaked at night, hollowed because life it self was nothingness to you.
So why would you let your self be filled with hollow?

You would rather let them filled you with glass
Shard of sharp fragment of others, pushing everything into your cup.
You tried to not mind how it gots cracks lining its smooth surface, how at some place it's chipped, and how it always on the verge of breaking

I can see you long for it, to just shatter.

I know I wasn't what you wanted.
I am not made of cotton candy or sunshine.
I am not full of the sweet words you long to hear.
I am not capable of being your light nor your saving grace.

But I can see you for who you are, isn't that enough?

"No it isn't", you replied with fury in your eyes.
"You dont know me", you spit.
"Dont pretend like you do!", you growled
As we battle each day, gritting our teeth and slamming our soul.

The noises that was buzzing in my ears sounded almost like a prayer.

You hated the cracks on your tea cup with vehemence.
At night when you feel asleep, tired from hating the world and yourself, you would dream of a world where you do not exist.
"Please", you screamed.

I find that too painful to know, so I just stabbed my self in the heart.
Bleeding out the warmth I felt, leaving me feeling like winter is coming.

"Do you remember how long this war had raged?"
I asked to you, when a sliver of peace wedged itself between us
You looked at me, and I looked straight back at you
You went quiet, lip pursed, shaking your head.
"There's no war".

It's raining bullets, a gift form you to me.
I cracked a smile, one that so very brittle and hungry.
The smell of gun powder eloped me, and I pretend that it was a hug from you.
I almost didn't catch your whisper,

"It felt like eternity".

The bullets felt more like flower petals, now.

We often dance this odd waltz of our.
Broken parts of our self, steps that retreats, pieces that are incomplete
Yet when we dance, you flashed this rare smile of yours.
The one that you tried so hard to forget because you told yourself, you don't deserve to.

So I wound you closer and closer, wishing that we could meld like this forever.
But forever existed after death, one of the thing we don't agree upon.
And this felt like eternity too, I wanted to shout.
But I didn't, and you walked back to your empty castle.

It's too cold outside for angels to fly.

Some day, I see my self splintered on your floor.
Lying beside your shattered mirrors.
Blood staining our hands as we gripped each other cages.
I wish this would be over, but I know Im lying.

We are caged, You and I.
Shouting pleas and prayer to be let out.
Soul stuffed in a heart shaped box.
Beating against our ribcage.

No amount of clawing could get us out,
for the keys have been lost in the mist.

The day I asked you to abandon your castle,
You got angry until I asked you to move in with me.
You had this awed look on your eyes
When, 'yes', slipped out your tongue.

A truce.

One I dearly wished would last beyond time.

I find you breathtaking.
A contradiction of shattered and whole.
An universe caged inside a fragile vessel
And yet you never realize that.

You always said that you are a monster.
One that said I shouldn't get close too, one I should have stop battling.
One that said they should've stop clutching me.
"I'm scared that I've decided to never let you go"

"I wont leave you"

When we lay beside each other,
I would trace your spine down to your back
Wondering how can't you see how beautiful you are?

The way your eyes are warm, despite your insistence that you are a cold *******.
The way your kindness shown through your mercy.
How tender your heart is and how you cannot hate God for chaining you to life.

You hated your self instead, as a form of repentance.

We are always walking on eggshells,
Of boundaries and blurred lines.
Playing skip with each other,
Waiting for the other shoe to fall.

"Why are you still here?", you said while cradling me in your embrace.
"Because I wanted to", I replied.
I didn't say the other reason.
The one that want to say it's because that you do not realize when you cracks, gold will ooze out to fix it.

I closed my eyes and inhale the scent of coffee, robust black coffee with a hint of mint.

" I'll always have your back, no matter the road you choose", I said when you got back to our home with red tainted feathers clutched on your hands.
You stared at me, gaze searching.
I stared right into your eyes, hands poised to knock at your window.
I knocked.

You took off your tattered mask,
I looped my hand around your neck.

"You do not need to shatter your self more just to be perfectly broken"

By Nabs

They call me a fun sucker
For pointing out that was wrong
For speaking out
About the discriminations that rot humanity

Some asked," why am you like this?"
"Why can't you just lay back and stop being so serious?"
"Why can't you just let it be?"
Or in other words 'why can't i shut up?'

Just because

I'm tired of having to swallow down my words
To be told to swallow down so many times
As if that is what all I'm good at
They don't care if I was choking

Just because

I'm tired of people carelessly making jokes
About issues that shouldn't be made fun off
Shouldn't be made into the **** of a joke
Cause while you're laughing, They're screaming

Just because

People like to slap labels on other people
Cause it's easier to box them down
Into simple brand than as a complex being
Easier to determine which one superior, which one inferior

As if we are products, not human

They called me a rebel
For defying the norm
For not accepting that skins colors and what you have down your pants iare limits
For not conforming to their rules to the playground

Just because they say it's right, doesnt mean its true

They say, ignorance is bliss

But I don't think I can sleep, ignoring the screams just cause it didn't happen to me

Cause how can they blind them self
To the injustice of the world
The way they pile the bodies
And set them aflame

Just because

I will not hide my self, any longer
I will not be ashamed of who I am
And for that I will fight

For that I will not bow down to oppression

I will not bow down to any kind of oppression

You can stick your silly labels to my back
Kick me on the sides, Beats me up
You can try to bring me down

But I will promise you
I will drag you down to hell with me too

Cause this is my home also
None of you, big kids could bully us to go
Cause you think you could burn me down
As if I am a house made of sticks

Didnt you know that to light me up means that you going to burn too?

For I fight for what is right
Even if in this ocean of poison there's barely any lights

By : Nabs

I was running away looking for a solace
When we collided
As though two meteors, out of their orbit
Crashes together creating a loud bang

Creating galaxies in our wake

You lit me up like a spark
Like I was firecrackers
And it would be to your delight
To see me explode in the night

We often clash and crash
As often as the wave crashes to the shore
But somehow i do not mind
You always soothe me at the end, after all

"An anchor", you confessed to me one day
To the silent question hovering between us
About what we are to each other
I almost replied that you were mine too

We are an anchor to each other
So this bruised ship of ours
Can still land on the shore
To be able to come back, even if only to each other

To not be lost they said
But I found that we are still lost
Lost in each other orbit
In each other oceans

I found, sometimes that i do not mind

We have faith in different things
A set of beliefs
But then again
Our foundation are made from the meshing off our jagged ends

A beautiful mosaics of broken pieces of two souls trying to balance each other

We are sowing seeds
While people slapping labels
Foolish and wrong
As if what we had is something for their consumption

It is supposed to be a glorious thing
Growing something
To see it bloom into something marvelous
Maybe thinking that the pest will always be pest is what doomed us after all

We tried to nurture it
To care for it
To prune it
But at the end it still withers in our hand

But not because of the lack of trying
Never because the lack of trying
You and me
we were cursed

With head as hard as rocks
Walls as high as the mountains
Heart broken in so many place
Trying to keep our heads high in this sinking ship of ours

It was a wonder we managed to collide in the first place

We bound ourself to each other
Maybe that was
What made us broke apart in the end
We never like to be tied down

But even though all things have to end
I am foolish enough to admit
That I, in my deepest heart
Wish for this to last

But alas, a wish is called a wish
Because it is something not to be true

I would like for us to keep colliding
To keep crashing through each other orbit
As if we are made to clash with each other
To keep pulling and pushing

Pulling and pushing

We're collateral damage
You and I
We know it deep into our bones
A myriad of explosions waiting to make another galaxies, another constallations

But fear always make the heart goes weary

I do not want it, this feeling
It came in sneaking
Like it knows it should not have been able to be in
But there is cracks in this fortress of mine

You tried to helped me
You tried so hard to help me
But there is pride in my soul
And my contempt grew out of the adoration that is slowly being corrupted away

I adore you
But I never could say it
There is always tension clogging between us
Maybe that is why we always bring knives

You know me
You know me better than I know my self
I know the taste of fear
It is a bitter pill that I keep swallowing everyday

The pill taste a bit sweeter around you

You made me fond of you
I never expected that
You become my solace
And yet i am too used to running

Maybe my save haven could only be found if i keep running

I keep building my walls up
There is a knocking sound
Persistent
But nothing can not be wore down by time

Even asteroids become corroded by time

Even stars will be killed by time

You and me?
We're a fool if we think we could have fought against time

There was one time when you told me
That I made you feel alive

You make me feel alive too,

So alive that i feel like every single nerve inside of me will burst just by looking at you

We were a two matches
Lighting each other up
Just to see it burns out
With all that was left were only ashes

How do one stop building walls?
How do one stop from falling?
How do you stop the barrage of feelings?

How do you stop from dying?

There is always a knife between us
Where we are tied with red strings
Perhaps it is red because it is a warning
A warning made by blood

Perhaps

Maybe

I woke up with bloods on my hand
We passed each other today
There's a different sort of magnetic field resonating around us
More chaotic yet more distant, more repelling
I swallow another bitter pill, keeping my heads up

Is this what love feels like?

Maybe
It is better like this
With bitter pills in my hands
To keep me from remembering

How you and I were made for destructions

By Nabs

In an apartment located between never and always.

101.
A boy, barely seventeen, is baking a cake for his mother anniversary.

Humming the song of long forgotten memories with his little sister as she help stirring the batter.
Throwing a pinch of salt, a drop of vanilla essence, and affection for his family.
His mother had gone to sleep for almost ten years now.

The cakes will taste absolutely delicious, though a bit burnt on the side.

Nothing frosting can't cover.

102.
Silence blanket the room, unnerving the guest.

Fidgeting gestures and nervous glances will be exchanged like baked goods.
The Old lady, who occupies this room, smiles a beatific smile that isn't hindered by wrinkles.
The guests will leave one by one, a little girl with big doe eyes stayed behind.

"Thank you for protecting me", the girl whispered as she watched her grandma fades away. The smell of sakura tree and cardamom wafts through the air.

106.
A man in his thirties is dreaming about sleeping for the millionth time.

The rooms is messy, with clothes scattered around and the occasional remorse carved to the wall.
He rolls up his bloodied sleeve and take out his gun, he goes to the window and jumps.

He is glad that this is his last job for the day.

107.
This room doesn't have an occupant, yet.

But the walls are loving and finger paints decorate the room.
Furnitures are assembled in a way that feels homely and was carefully handcrafted by the the native american.
The smell of baked cookies is saturated in the walls.
Children laughters can still be heard echoing between the walls.

The last occupant didn't **** the children after they've kissed them good night.

203.
A young hispanic teen is running on a hand made treadmill, with a speed of 0.5 km/hour.

Sweats drenched her tank top, her skin glisten.
She keeps running and running and running, even though her breathing is labored.
An dusty wheelchair lays in the corner of the room.

She still cant stop being in awe that she could feel the ache in her legs now.

It's a good ache.

205.
This tenant used to have a halo of golden hair.

But now a tuft of midnight blue, so dark that you could mistaken that the glitters stuck in his hair as little stars, greets anyone who would be his guest.
He lays in bed with the girl from 204.
He's rubbing circles on her hand, feeling the steady pulse of her beating heart.

He can hear his heart breaking into pieces, but as he look at the razors blades on the nightstand, he cradles her head and kisses her eyelids.

She doesn't stir, but her chest rise and fall like wave lapping the shore.

210.
An african-american single mother with three children, twins and one babe, is watering the little herb haven they have on the window sill.

The basil and tomato looks ready to be picked, she thinks that making a hearty tomato-basil soup with a dash of fondness will do good to cheer up her little runts.
The twins will agree readily, because they haven't eaten anything for two days. The babe just gurgles bubble.
As they eat their soup and said their daily prayers, the mother phone chimed. She have just received $500 for the job she did.

She's too glad to feel regret that she was treate as less human and more of an item.

301.
A woman was on her phone, talking about quantum physics to her partner.

She is elaborating The Chaos theory, when a knock resounded at the door.
Her partner awaits her out side with a bouquet of Einstein heads and a simple silver band ring.

The woman knows that they're nor legal to marry here yet, but she appreciate the sentiment.

302 & 303.
A family of four filled this room, sitting on a carpet reading Qur'an.

The mother who is kind, slowly teach her youngest how to not fumble with the arabics
The oldest, who is not the first oldest, will continue to devour the holy book, hungry to know more about their religion that people dubbed wrong in this land of so called freedom.
It's been 14 years since the 9/11 tragedy.

The father is just glad that he could still feed 4/5 of his family.

307.
A blind man in his forties lives here.

He is sitting on his living room towards the windows.
Tracing the braille book with his hands, the ghost of color tried to haunt him.
No one could be haunted by something they don't remember.
The tenant across the street committed suicide.

Sometimes he feels grateful he can't see a thing when he heard cacophony of screams and denial.

The world too dramatic for his taste anyway.

310.
This room was empty.

It last occupant, which was nine years ago, was a young boy who stood all alone in this room, except for the bundle he cradled in his hand.
He was cooing at his little sister, promising to bake her cakes for her birthday.
Ignoring the way his chest tighten the longer he stayed in the room.
His mother didn't come home from the hospital yesterday.

He cradled the baby closer like it was his last precious thing.

His little sister turns out to be more than a thing, she turns out into a wonderful person and he is thankful for it.

By: Nabs

In this long and dreary day
As I walked down the park, I long for the taste of peace
For It have not grace me with its caress in such a long time that I remember it in fondness
Leaving me feeling quite restless

I miss the caress of soft lips, mumbling words
Sweet sweet words that is like a blade to my heart
I miss the burn of passion, that leave me breathless, head held high
Marching with purpose in this world
I miss the laughter that would accompany me with every step I took

I wish time could be turned back like the black sand in the hourglass mother love so much

I saw a man sitting down on the bench
His hair unkept, his eyes were shadowed
Wearing a fancy tailored suit
It looks surreal to say, someone who one would expect to look regal in the air of wealth, could look so small
Swallowed by the suit that he was wearing as if it was his life line

He was shivering, despite having a warm suit cloak that was draped on his shoulder
Maybe its the grief that was leeching his warmth

He took out a silver flask, holding it carefully with trembling hands as if it was the most precious thing
He turned the cork slowly, as if dreading it
Tipping his head back, pouring gold down his throat with the fervor of a man addicted
Spilling some on his fancy suit, uncaring

They say it's liquid courage, but why as he take each gulp of the golden liquid he looks more and more like a person who is cowering?
A person who had been defeated

He looks lonely and at that moment, as selfish as this sounds, I feel the camaraderie between us
A bond shared by someone who knows how to long for something and yet being denied
Either by someone else or them self

I shook off the feeling, He reminder me too much of my father, and continue to walk

The destination that I had in mind was the old part of the park
The one that people abandon in favor of the newer one
Where the wild flowers and moss over took everything, making it their own personal kingdom
Where the trees are lush and the air feel gentle

When I reached there, I sat under the old apple tree
The roots are a mess of intricate knots, weaving into the earth, creating a the pattern that show the cycle of life
The branches are laden with over ripe red apples and the sweet smell of childhood, of running through my grandparents house pockets full of berries and wild apples
I am reminded of the time that home was available

The rustle of leaf have lull men and woman alike to oblivion

Thinking of lost time, of gleeful laughter across the grassland of change and puberty
Running around trying to catch moments and memories, trying to bottle it down
Making ambrosia from the ones that define happiness, taking and taking from the well of our soul
Forgetting that sometimes the well could dry, could grow musty and moldy, could cave in and turning the once full well into a gaping hole, a depression so they say

Depressions feels like a blanket of warmth in my hollow life these days

I notice a little girl was gathering the fallen leaves, not far from me
She was making in into a leaf crown, befitting even for a king
She was barefooted, hair the shade of flame with freckles adorned her face like constellations
She was humming a note that seems to tell a story of promises and better future

I looked at her, I saw dreams and my little sister
From the white satin dress, like the one mother used to made me and her wear when the first sign of spring was showing, to her gaped smile
I feel like I am seeing picture from a long time ago that I had forgotten I ever had
A picture that I used to hate but now come to realize I am fond off

I could feel my heart aching

I was cut off from my musing when A long and tall dark shadow suddenly befell her
A man cloaked by midnight stood behind her, with ink stained face, wild hair, and eyes as dark as the abyss
He reminded me of the man that took my little sister away
The air seemed to tense and still, as if holding their breath for the anticipation

Yet when she noticed the man she let out a smile as bright as a thousand sun, burning, in it sincereness
The world seems to let out a relieved sigh as she tiptoed to put the leaf crown on top of the man head
The man gaze seems to tender, then he cradled her in his arm

They both were so different
He was midnight, while the she was sunshine
He was cold, she was warmth
He was sins, she was virtues

And yet they looked at each other with gaze filled with tenderness and fondness

The yearning that hit me leave me dizzy
Envy wedged it self into my heart, for I wanted that bond that tied them both so much that my hands were trembling
I fill sick with want

I almost reached out

Shame filled me, so I ran away like I always do
Biting back the sob that threaten to spill, I ran away to the fountain

It's an old fountain that been there even when the years had not existed yet
It withstood history, though not without consequences
The water is still crystal clear even after centuries of people throwing coins there
Confessing their sins as the coins slowly sink while the ancient koi fish are dancing around lazily

I traced the fountain delicate rims, watching the the water ripples as rain started to drenched the earth
The smell of petrichor hit my senses, it smelled like musk and the sky longing to kiss the earth
I realized that all along I had hate rain because it would engulf me in melancholy so that I forget the blood that stained my lips


I saw butterflies fluttering by, daintily flying, making patterns in the sky
A storm of colors that left me with out my breath
Gentle yet unforgiving in its wake
Like my mother gentle reprimand, my sister promises, my father wine bottle shattering, and my brothers death


I wonder, as the rain turn to storm, how long had i been gone from home?

By: Nabs

I was planning to sleep till the end of the world
Ignoring it, even when it crashes and burn
To be engulfed by dream as the world bleeds and scream them self hoarse
'Let them scar, let them die', the void rasp to me as I close my eyes

You woke me up

The coronation day was the day that the flowers woke up and the eggs shells shatters, transforming into delicate winged cicadas
You were draped with cascade of waterfall, wreathed with gold russet leaf, and painted with the black of solemnity
You had this serene look on your face, you look fit to be a king

I almost regretted embedding the knife into the center of your webs

You clip my wings and burned them
You scattered the ashes on the river of life as you rub circles on my wrist
In that moment, the thumping of our hearts were synchronized in the dance of waltz

It felt exhilarating

I could not stop you as you kissed the tears that was rolling down from my cheek
'There dear, now were even', you whispered softly in my ear, as you stroked my cheeks
I looked at the tattered red webs that is pooling in the floor
You smelled like ozone singed by lightning and the sweet smell of too ripe apples

I never meant for it to hurt, so I bite my lips until it bleeds

The first time we met was the time when you were as young as morning dew and I was merely a bud
We were going on our separate ways with us as a marionette not of our own design
You were heading to the depth of Lady Gaia, and the embraces of the river Styx
I was running to the ruins of the old earth king, and to ascend to the sky

We traded our ways and our honesty that day

I made bruises bloom all over you, beautifully marring your tanned skin
Your lips would be swollen and ******, from the rendezvous of my lips and fist
Yet you would tangle your hands in my hair to yank it back
Exposing the column of my throat, where you would bite the junctures, snarling,"Mine"

The pressure of the blade felt like home

Why do we always try to bleed each other out?
When we know that destroying one another will result in ending the other one
Sometimes you would hold me so tenderly that I feel like coming apart at the seams
But the day and the night are never meant to stay together for a long time

Dusk and dawn always feel too fast

So we traded fist and wounds like affection
Trying to poison, and sunk our claws down at each other backs
Wandering how would it feels like to succumb to the abyss together
The laughter of the void echoes around us, calling us to come home

It sounded like the day you slit my wrist

You were born to be a sacrifice
I was born to be a priest
But the way the balance of the world would tip with a flutter of a butterfly wing
Shattering the notion that what we have is more than the delicate china we shattered the fifth time we fight

My blood still smears on the inside of your wrist
Your poison still trickling down my throat
It taste coppery and sweet, like the taste of freedom after years of being tied to strings
You would try to yank the poison out of my hand, but I would just break your fingers one by one

Remember that one night, where I asked you if it's possible for us to be, with out the itch to see one life flares to an end
"There will be a heavy price", you said in a voice that sounds like the rustling of leaves
" I will pay it", I replied with the conviction of someone whose heart was of the verge of shattering
" You paid enough"

We were never meant to cross each other paths.

By: Nabs

I want to love you like  I love the sun, thriving and burning. A burst of warmth, a need that if not fulfilled  would make me yearn and withering away, dying with out the sun rays. All consuming.

I want to love you like a flower. Slowly growing and blooming into something breath taking and then withers away.

I want to love you like how water is. Ever patient and slowly trickling, and then bursting with fervor. Leaving a changed landscape behind, a changed me.

I do love you.

I love you, I love you like my memories of my first laugh, like a color blind person seeing colors for the first time.  A burst of an unnamed wild thing that have never been experienced by the soul before.

I love you like how the snow thaw in the spring. Slowly  growing, peeking shyly from the snow. A patch of a grass. Growing until it withers away again as the snow descends. And endless cycle who will be broken with the end of time.

I love you, until I forget about who I am, until all I can see and feel is you. Until I am drowning and between the  gasps of my breath, lies prayers to you.

There is a flowing river inside of me. A flowing river of fire and warmth, who will burn and drown me at the same time. Leaving only ashes and the wisp of prayers. An empty cache of what used to be.

I love you.


I love you, until it intoxicate me, until I am gasping for breath every second. Until my head grows blank and as every second passes in this infinite yet ephemeral time,  a glimmer of realization pass through me, like sand in the sahara desert. Scorching and yet softened by wind.  

Darling, I love you like we were not meant to be.