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.

He is a golden boy
hair made from strands of sun
and skin as dark as
the war that raged inside his mind
his words are sandstorm
ready to blow away those foolish enough
to travel the desert without willpower
there are cobras coiling in his veins
venomous and deadly and glinting like stars
as the dove on his back spread their wings
and try to fly away
He is a golden boy
heart buried deep beneath
shriveling everyday as he try to
held the world on his shoulders

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.

we stand, gazing up to the sky
see it cracked like a spider web
dust and grime  have dirtied our hands
saturated in the culture of lies
growing like fungus,
chaotic in their network
sweat drips down, reflection distorted
teeth grind down to brittle pebbles
holes and cavity
a rot that afflict both humanity and this world
we can't shake off our sin, it's there
forever will it be there, a little lead lake
building mountains as you exhale each breath
tiny bones will grow into one of hollow
with empty eyes and wobbly knees
scrapped thigh and ****** fist
but we still grow, a bean sprout
on mounds of rotting corpses
even as our breathe hackles
torn up legs will march the
march of rightiousness
muddy puddle doesn't make a good mirror
but we make do

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

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

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

you tipped my world into your axis-- gravity and such things that do not bind if we do not let them.
weaved--time and affection into a wreath that wound up around my neck.

(the wreath is pretty but breathing is getting harder and harder to do)

i didn't master patience until i fell head first into your orbit. I haven't still--but when you understand something it'll become easier.

i want to untold what i said--to swallow them back, hide them in between the crease of a smile; to cradle them--instead of giving them to you.
but i did and there's no regret to linger on.

(i have given everything--and myself still think it wouldn't be enough.)

take your time, i would rather bleed out than be a cage. and i'll wait until you leave--until you asked; cause the ball is in your court.

(know this,
i have made my choice when i dreamed being with you that night; warm lights--and smiling, in between your arms.)


"love isn't painful. what keeps you apart from it, is the one that's painful"

I know how to love so deep
with someone that you
know, in your very heart,
will never be with you
in the way that you yearn

I know how to love so long
that being loved back
does not matter anymore
because it's better to not be loved back
than have them say no to you

I know how to lie about that love
to pretend it isn't there until
one day it turned into another kind of love
the one you know you can cling to
because it's whats acceptable
because it mean I'm back behind the line

I know that the more you love someone
the more you know that being
reciprocated isn't the important thing
it's the fact that you can be beside them
and watch them smile, cry, and be human
it's the fact that even if you cannot hold
their hand that way, you know
that they trusted you
that they have your back

I know how a heartbreak feels like
how it would be so quiet and unnoticeable
to anyone, If you don't admit
you have one in the first place

I know that to admit,
whether being in love or in pain,
was the first step of letting go
maybe that is why I kept denying

I know how love feels like
before I know what the word means
before I realize that it is why I see you
in bright light, or why i always try to impress you
before I realize I was so deep in love

I didn't fall in love with you, I never did
Loving you was like me being in my skin
It is as easy as breathing and me afraid of the future
the day I realize that fact was not a revelation
it was an admission of a secret
that I meant to keep to my self

I know how to love you for so long
that loving someone other than you
had me crying and calling and laughing
because it feels like a relieve
it feels like a little white lie i can take comfort in

I know how to stop denying and hoping
and just love you and love you
and it's easier than anything I've ever done
because I have never learn how not to accept you

In the long run, love does not make you feel
breathless, it does not make your heart pump fast
love makes you see them in all their glory and flaws
and makes you think that you can't live
with out them being a part in your life

I know how to love
I know how to be in love
I know how to be heartbroken
I know how to love and love and love,
again and again

I know and I know and I know

and I understand now

That the most truest way I can say that I love you
is me saying goodbye to my love for you

angry teens
rebelling agains the streams
trying to find them self
in a world where nothing make sense

Goodbye,
to the long nights
filled with your endless chatter
while your presence burrow itself
deeper in the cavern of my cranium
seeping through every pores

(i should've taken my antibiotics more)

Goodbye,
to the constant warmth
and burst of vivid life
that you painted on me with colored chalk
despite me telling you that i'm a black board

(maybe i should've told you i'm allergic)

Goodbye,
to the feeling of falling
and not being afraid for the impact
the dizzying senstation that flooded inside
of the daily dose of adrenaline rush
you taught me to not be scared

( i'm not scared anymore because i've reached the ground)

Goodbye,
to your kindness and intimacy
your fold and creases and lines
the labyrinth that i would gladly be lost in forever
would gladly throw away my maps and my common sense so i could just learn about you more

Hello,
to the first chapter after you


( all that time charting made me know how you work, it doesnt make it easier to swallow why you made yourself a stranger to this known walls )

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

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

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

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

playing surgeon
words as our scalpel
dissecting our body
trying to heal the broken parts,
instead what we achieved
is mangling ourself
into unrecognizable
pile of mess

She is not pretty.
Her face is an average face; normal, common, ordinary. She have too big eyes, a nose that is a little bit too small, and slightly crooked teeth.
She is not pretty, and she does not mind.

Her heart isn't kind.
Isn't caring nor warm, but it is not bitter. It is a heart. Beating strong and pulsing with life. It is too tight, sometimes. Hurting her when she wanted to breathe. Most of the time she lives with the feeling of death but her heart is alive and so is she.

People asked her if she is capable of love.
They never get their answer because it is not their business what her heart can or cannot do.
She loves, barely and hesitantly. A child walking for the first time, falling down and keeps getting up.
She loves like she is dying.

Kindness isn't inherent in her,
but the autumn and pumpkin latte taste bright on her tongue, scalding and burning. She tried crying one night, but the mold would not broke (or it's already broken and she does have enough to care).

People whispers about her, she does not care.
Labels are pinned unto her back and she walks like life isn't just boxes with tags slapped on it. She walks like life is life and nothing more. They are scared of her, murmuring about her normal skin; how she can walk like she is deaf to the world.

They are afraid because she held the secret that they want so bad to devour.
"what is your deal?" "Why won't you smile?"
"Are you even human?" (howcanyouloveyourselfwhenyouarentspecialprettywhenyouarejustcomm­onandaveragehowhowhowhowho-)

She does not stand out, standing out means to fit in. She knows that to fit in means dying. And she is in love with life to let go, too in love to care that she is nothing and not special because she isn't. How can she be more than what she is when life is miraculous and a wonder and so so so much more than she could ever be in a lifetime.

She is not pretty, and she is okay with that.
Because she knows that there is so much more in life than beauty.

-nabs

chant chant chant
knife blooming in someone heart
sharp, they said
the earth thrives on blood

false saints
those fallen from grace
who sins and suffers
dancing with bleeding feet
while the ground trembles

virtues, they said
as a head was offered
branches of jasmine peeking
out, from the hollowed socket

the children are playing,
blood on their thin bony fingers and
hungry yearning
mouth

they sing a song,
old and lost as
death came for the festival

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

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

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

13.
The water burned my skin,
I scrubbed until it was raw and red.
An empty 200 ml bottle of soap laid on the bottom of the bath tub,
I used them all, crying because no matter what I did the kiss still lingers like a stubborn stain on my body.

My mother always told me not to smile at strangers.

I've never felt so ***** in my life.

8.
The first time I heard the word ****,
Was when the news flashed a picture of a 10 years old dead girl. They found her lying naked in a town park. Said that she had been ***** several times.

My mother cradled my head, kissing me with fears in her eyes.

I asked her what that word means, she just shook her head and hugged me closer.
Told me to always be careful.
That little girls need to always be alert because there are wolves wearing man skin.


I didn't understand what the word means nor the fear that echoes in my mother eyes.

But the picture of the dead girl stayed in my head along with a new vocabulary.

13.
I was disappointed.
The hotel was not what I expected. The bed was not comfortable, the room too hot, though the window have an amazing view.

The elevator was very annoying.
It was always too long.
I pushed the button again and again.

There's the cleaning service guy in the hall.
He's looking at me.

I smiled at him, the elevator door opened.

6.
Our home room teacher told us today,
That a smile can brighten someone else's day.

I couldn't stop smiling when I get home, not even to strangers.

I didn't notice the way, my driver was blocking me out from view.

9.
There's a new house being built in the complex.
I walked past the construction site with my older cousin to get to my house.
We were laughing freely and happily.
Childhood was clinging to us like a warm and comfortable blanket.

The construction workers whistled at us and called us pretty. They invited us to play with them.

I smiled at them nervously.
I didn't know why my hand started to feel clammy and cold. My older cousin gripped my hand tight and dragged me to walk faster.

Wan't pretty supposed to be a compliment?

15.
click. open page

(n) Cat Call:
"A loud whistle or a comment of a ****** nature made by a man to a passing woman."

- Oxford Dictionary

See link below for the definition of ****** harassment.

click.

13.
There was a knock, an open door.
A smile and betrayal.

The day I learned that 'I love you',
can sound ominious, make pity rise like a well.
How it can be filled with poison and lies,
corroding naivity like acid on skin.

A feral kiss, pungent breath.
There was hands roaming
where it wasn't welcome.
My body freeze as tar
like dread course through my veins.

That day, the word 'no' becomes my prayer.

14.
I stayed in my room.
I tried not to let my eyes wonder to where I hide the blade. I had become too acquaintanced with it, this past years. Too addicted.

The clocked showed 9.00 PM. I stared at the ceiling unable to sleep. Wishing I could forget.
It's been one year.
I had taken a bath to cleanse my self.

The door creaked open.

( see you tomorrow.)

There's someone sobbing.
I locked my self in the bathroom until I fell asleep on the cold white tiles.

I woke up with a sore body and a red flower was blooming on the floor.

I sprayed it with water hoping I could also disappear like them.

(I don't remember how to smile)

13.
I told my mother what happen.
There was denial in her eyes, and blame were pouring out of her mouth like it was the only thing keeping her afloat in the world.

It crashed against me like a tsunami, and I drowned.

I drowned, and I never realized how alone I was.

The words 'It's your fault' etched under my skin and shame rattled in my heart like shackles.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, resentment growing in my eyes, and I wonder if forgiveness is possible.

12.
My mother and father always said that the day I was born, it was like a dream come true.
Said they were so happy to have a daughter, that they celebrate like never before.

They named me such wonderful prayers.
Said I will grow up to be a strong woman.

I believed every word they said.

My parents aren't a liar.

17.
It's been 4 years.
There is still monsters under my bed. The tears never truly stop pouring, new scars keep littering my body, and my heart will never stop bleeding.
I understand the fear in my mother eyes.

But the red flowers have stopped blooming and I relearn how to smile. It's still frayed on its edges but breathing becomes more easier.

It's been 4 years,
and I have learned forgiveness.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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?

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.

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.

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.

(breathe.)

I. Monday

Lethargy is your close friend
the weight of its hand on your shoulder
is both familiar and heavy
you want to push it away
but these days
you need company more than dignity

(in and out)

II. Tuesday

You always hate this day
your coffee always turn sour
and the sky always seems so bleak
you try to convince yourself
it does not have anything to do
with the ever absent table in front of you

(breathe.)

III. Wednesday

Scrolling down through facebook
you see pictures of your high school friends
you scowled and keep scrolling
the taste of toilet water and stale food
still ripe on your tounge
you grimaced
a therapy add pops up into your monitor

(the bile is normal. breathe)

IV. Thursday

You wonder about greek gods
about their passion that turned cruel
you also wonder why things are called things
and other inane things
you wonder a lot
why rice tasted nice
why blue sounds sad
why your brother never came home

(exhale and inhale)

V. Friday

Five, that's the number of people in your family
Your father, who always phones at midnight
your mother, who stayed in the kitchen weeping
your brother, who you never seen again
your sister, who wear short skirts to hide the bruises on her
you, who swallowd too many pills to remember how to be human

(don't try to stop breathing. It's important)

VI. Saturday

It's almost over now
you wrote down every word you remember
from their letter that they sent 2 years ago
before they became a mess of mutated cell
you keep telling your self they're still the same
you lie to yourself so you can sleep at night
denying that change is inevitable
you have mutated too
the infection were from yourself

(in out in out inoutinoutinout)

VII. Sunday

The sun is shining bright today
but the lights are blinding
and you burrow further into the blanket
not smiling as hands brushes your hair
they're the skeleton begging to be out
from the closet you locked them
you pursed your lips
Golden liqiud it is

(breathe and look up.)

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"

We met on the axis of two different parallels
a paradox too taboo to be whispered
gone in a blink of an eye
and yet exist in a sea of desperation

You were gone in the next exhale
and I too follow suit
unacknowlegding of the fact
that we both wear the same existance

Do you remember that story?
how prometheus got chained,
his liver pecked every dawn
because he showed kindness?

We both atone for sins not of our own
but would glady drown in our exile
because it was better than the stale pit
those people call life

This were the worlds we condemned
ourself to be with
two people, who knows
but is bound by our vow to be blind

Winter in my home was always beautiful
how pristine the snow is
until you dig up the corpse
under our fingernails

Just like the summer in your home
where the plants are growing
from the river of blood
that run beneath

You are soot stained, cold eyes
but your hands are warm

They were always warm,
and i wonder if it was because
of the blood that stained your hands

You use your spine as a spear
I use my ribcage as a shield
those tear tracks have died
and there is both spite in our eyes

We never touched, except for that first time
never shared anything except understanding
i do not know your story,
nor do you know mine

but it was more than enough

We both met at the axis of a parallel
created out of the resonance
of the guilt and the war and
everything in between
and we met with a touch of kindness

By: Nabs

That day on the beach
Calming wave was lapping the sand
Forming a clear contrast between black and white
You were standing between these lines, firm

You outstretched your arms
As if trying to hug the raging wind
As if trying to calm it down
Not relenting even as it tried to blew you away

I could not see your face
But your hair was those of sunlight
Blinding and pale, so pale that it looks translucence
I find myself to be captivated

You stood there for hours, and I too
Mesmerized with the way you let your self stumble into the ocean
I stood there feeling as if I had known you since the day I first took breath

You threw your head back and let out peals of laughter
Melodious, yet there's a tone of destruction there
Always a tone of destruction
The wind raged on, the waves roared savagely

I saw your eyes, in the brief fraction of eternity, they made me feel things that were unknown to me

Your eyes were a shade of color that i did not understand, that no human would ever comprehend
Too complex and yet simple, but one that words does not have jurisdiction over
Paradoxes upon paradoxes

Eyes that had seen storm and withstood them
Caused tornadoes and typhoon
Created worlds and gods and life
Forgotten but presisted
Because you do not sip faith

My whole being was longing to be near you
But it was not ever meant to be
For to touch you mean to touch divinity
Sinners have been long forbidden to accept grace

As thunder started to crackled in the air,
You turned your head and saw my existence
My frail, frail heart feels like it was about to burst
Fireworks of muscles, blood, and flesh

Explosion of the worst kind and the best kind

You cocked your head, as if curious of why i am here
You beckoned me forward,
For me to move my paralyzed limbs
In my heart I knew you are not human
But strangely was not afraid

You are gravity and I couldn't help but being pulled to you

As I got pulled closer and closer, I saw that you are a myriads of everything
Of endings and beginnings
Of Life and death
Of calamity and Insanity

Paradox upon paradox, your structure

I saw the universe swirling around you
With each breath that you too
Sparks flew everywhere
The air was singed by thunder

There were gospels staining your skin
The words of long forgotten
The world that is dead but alive
Only because you know of their existence

"Why", the question slipped out
I found myself to be mortified, a fool that I am

" Because every being have their orbits, and this is the time for us to meet. Soon our orbits will separate and it is a goodbye and a greeting"

You linked your hands with mine
It was abrupt, as all of this was
But it felt like forever and distantly the feeling of death fights with the euphoria of being held by you
I feel like i've known you all my life but i know i don't

I looked down at your hands to see them cracking, your hands were made of glass
Rose petal stained your lips while thorns looped around your neck
I squeezed your hands to comfort you

We took off running with hands interlacing
      
You never said who you are,
    but you never liked to be bound in names

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

it's useless,
i screamed to my self
this indulgence of
lies, needs to stop

rain drops in an ocean
don't mean a thing
there is only illusions--no,
delusions that awaits

a phantom reality
that conquers dreams
rendering me spineless,
i cannot stay this way

you are beautiful,
but these clues are just
drops of bloods and
the word sorry, scribbled out

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

Sometimes I want to be numb
because emotions feels like nails
and they scrape the windows
left marks that will not disappear

Sometimes I want to be numb
because my heart feels too soft
and it keep hurting and bleeding
even after I buried it six feet under

Sometimes I want to be numb
to not care about being empty
or feeling guilt that seeps in the foundations
those are the days where getting anything done becomes very hard

Sometimes I want to be numb
but then there is days where I bathe
in the privilege that is feelings
to be able to taste sunlight and feel the wind
shouting and screaming and kicking and fighting
bitter and sweet and crying and breathing
to be able to say I love you and goodbye

Sometimes I want to be numb
but feeling pain is a price
I would gladly pay to be alive

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

dear girls,
don't listen to those
toxic waste of garbage
telling you how to treat
your own body

too many times
those spider webs
were poured into our head
cobwebs muddling our brain
with poisons that
made us think that stabbing
other girls will make it better

and too many times
we are forced to listen
because if we don't
it is a matter of
life and death

we live in a world
where it is fine
to **** someone
to **** someone
if you blame it on
their clothes

how they act
how they blink
how they breathe
how they exist

we live in a world
where a girl is only
worthy of being treated
like an actual human being
if they are someone
mother's
sister's
daughter's

dear girls,
you are living in a world
where common sense is
askew

where our body is trafficked
as currency
sold, robbed
of their choice and consent

where we armored our self
with sharp nails and keys
every time we walked home just
a little bit too
late

where we are afraid,
because entitlement is savage,
claimed, right and left,
by undeserving hands
as if we are food to be eaten
when ever they please

it is important to know that
but it is also important to know
that none of it is your fault

dear girls,
you are the owner of your body
it is yours, and
forever will it be yours
in death, in life
in marriage, in teen hood

society may tell us
that our purpose here
is only to give birth to a child
and listen to whatever men say

dear girls,
society is wrong
we are so much more
and we can do better than that

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

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

He write in bread crumbs,
trails of clues that will not be found because the birds have eaten them. Fleeting, unremarkable, but it feeds and feeds and fills empty stomach. Unfulfilling but full.

( Most of the days that is so much better than being hollow)

Over the years, the forest grows.
Grasses mold it self into canopies, rooftops that shields him from the light. A darkness that blinds but pulsing with warmth. Branches twisting towards each other, entangled in each other stories. 'write better' they whispers.
Flowers will not blooms but the sweet smell of honeycombs wafts through the air like hunger.

( we are hungry and hungry and lonely tell us stories, tell us more more more more please moremoreore-)

So the path to home become unrecognizable. Intangible, flickering as if it wanted to be real.
He feels kin ship down to his bones and whimpers fall out from his mouth, quivers but does not fold.
He curled but life would not, will not let him bend.

What should a man do if he cannot curve, cannot bow and break? They all said that to achieve greatness, he have to taste 'broken' on his tongue. Ripe to the point of decaying, fingers sticky with black honey.

He let his teeth chatters, secrets flew out of his mouth like love letters. Carved into him self are the promises made by breakers and yet, honesty is what he sounds like. A forest is an illusion, they say. Wrap your perception until everything look the same and there is only doubt in your self.

( After all everything have to protect their heart)

Peeling barks, bleeds. He bit his lip, wounds are his lovers but everyone knows that love is treacherous. There is a little boy and a man. There is Him, the one who only grows and feeds but never fulfills. 'Isn't that enough?',he asked.
This was what you sow into me, you make me grow into a man but not a human. So he becomes,
forest isn't the only thing that can burn.

( How do you escape your self?)

This is a mirror house, a forest where every trees are your thoughts, their roots are your beliefs, and their seeds are your doing.

(most of the times, it become your own undoings)

You reap what you sow, but what if you are the one  who was sowed.

-nabs

I woke up to an empty room.
another day of pills and liquor
to forget how painful a heart broke is.
How it feels like you're
burning and freezing at the same time.

Swallowing the pills down,
I force my self to function.
even though I feel like walking on a bed
of jagged pieces of my heart
that is left brittle and wasn't mine anymore
It pumps weakly, desperate for the feeling
of warmth and happiness.

My heart is yours and you discarded it.
Leaving it unwanted on the floor that I used to call a solace from world.

You discarded it on the room where you proposed your undying love to me.

I chug down bottle after bottle of numbness.
trying to drown down your tutting voice that reminds me to take care of my self.
Trying to drown all the memories of us with the golden toxic that I stocked up in the cupboard because it's your favorite.

I want to tell you that I didn't shed any tears.
You would smile at that
and said," That's my girl".

It hurts that I am not your girl anymore.
It hurts that even consuming all the things I wished you would stop using, I still can't hate you for leaving.
I still can't hate you after you engrave abandontmend into my tailbone, making my spine cold and heavy with unsecurity and dread.

I still can't hate you so I'll hate my self.

So I chug and chug again.
Swallowing pills upon pills.
Over dosing my self with numbness because
feeling the pain isn't an option.
I've built my life around you and the walls are crumbling and crumbling and crumbling.
I'm to ******* afraid that once the numbness is gone i'll be left only as ashes to scatter.

Misery is my constant companion these days.

I've learned the curve of it's lips kissing the top of my head,
remember the sound of it's voice as it soothe me into a state of catatonic disarray and the diability to continue dancing with life.

I forgot how to dance with out a partner.

I still have not shed any tears for you.
Your smile and your laugh keep echoing in my head and I want to scream until i turned into a shade.

I wonder If I'm trying to turn my self into the wraith that you always fascinated with.

I still wear the ring on my finger. I tried throwing it away but my eyes burns and I do not want to be a promise breaker.
Even if my whole body is trembling and my every beat of my heart brings sparks of pain that sears to my body, I will not be a promise breaker.

I still wore your ring on my finger.

So I chug again and again and again.
Until my mind was hazed enough, unable to make the connection of gold to your eyes.
To make a connection of white to your teeth.
To temporarily ceased to remember you and your stupid hair.

To temporarily forget about how it feels like my hearts is being squeezed tight every time I see you anywhere.

There's white foam on the corner of my mouth.
It reminds me of Hans Christian's Little Mermaid.
Of the mermaid's love and how it turned her to foam.

So when the morning light comes, I wished for my self to turn into foam instead of days where it is filled with broken bottles, white pills, and the fact that you left me for my sister

I wish for me to be strong enough to stab the heart that yearns for you and remove your ring from my finger.

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

crying isn't a sin
it is a respite
so you do not
become so burdened
with life

your wet lashes
isn't a mark of
weakness
instead it shows
how human you
are