Ejiro

Ejiro 2d

Back in elementary school
the teacher will give you a piece of paper and you have to write 3 things
that describe who you are
Usually kids would just scribble down the first 3 sentences that pop up in their heads
“I’m a funny person ” said the unfunny one
“I’m super friendly” said the mean girl
“I’m a good person” said the ****
etc… etc… etc…
but whenever that paper appears upon her
she would go numb
with my pencil glued to her hand
confused eyes staring at the paper
usually she would just peak at someone else’s paper and copy what they say
and just go on with her day
with that question clinging onto her with utter annoyance
Yet now that she’s older it’s different
That question doesn’t come up on her high school homework packets and yet
and yet it still lingers somehow
Now her mind goes to a daydream state
where she sees herself sitting in an empty elementary classroom
with the paper with that question on there
and once again she’s numb
no one to peak at their shoulder
no teacher to ask for help
and not a single sound that can distract her
With only a pencil in my hand
she wrote her name and the date
with only a question mark as her answer
even though she already knew
but couldn’t bear to write it

#question #answer

Ejiro Mar 7

Doomsday at the Grand Hotel

The sky looked shattered from up above
yet here I stand with suitcases in both hands
checking in a room as my fate was planned.
The lobby gleamed in gold and rust
a final shrine to times long past
the chandeliers still softly shimmer
yet the outside world was already gone
the concierge with siren eyes
whispered “enjoy your time”
with a crooked smile.
A penthouse suite with a view so narrow
of oceans boiling acid and stars that died.
The diner was fully stocked
as time itself unlocked
a toast to my humble life
a toast to death dressed in a fancy attire
with a small sip to catch my final breath.
The rooftop pool resembled a lagoon
reflecting ember-colored light
across from the pool a choir sang
their melodic notes sang off-key
a waltz song for letting go.
I watched from my concrete hotel bed
as the clock runs out with the sky turned
the end had come and yet here I lay
a special guest of doomsday
my one final stay

Imagine if the world came to an end
and you decided to spend your last moments
in a hotel bed

#doomsday #hotel

Ejiro Mar 2

The Jester and The Mime

The jester danced with weary feet
his laughter hollow, incomplete.
His painted grin with a practiced art
yet sorrow weighed upon his heart.
The mime stood bright in silent cheer,
a world of joy both wide and near.
No words he spoke, yet all could see
a soul as pure as a bright melody.
They crossed one day beneath the audience
a fleeting glance, a solemn tune
the jester sighed; the mime just bowed
one lost in pain, one free and proud.
When the curtain falls
applauses arrive from the crowd
faces filled by both tears and smiles
with weeping laughter from all around.

A poem about a sad jester and a happy mime

Ejiro Feb 19

Bittersweet tea with Burning coffee

There was cafe near my neighborhood
when I walk past it, I saw someone through the glass windows
there was a way younger version of myself
sitting at a table as she kicks her feet in the air while whistling a jolly tune
I enter inside and sit across from her
she seemed eager to see me and began to start a conversation
which only lead to her rambling on about random topics
she was a chatterbox of sorts, and I had nothing to reply
a waitress came to our table and ask what we wanted
she asked for a cup of tea while I asked for a coffee
when she came back and gave us our drinks
she blows on her tea and takes small sips since it was too hot
while I drink my coffee full
ignoring the feeling of my tongue burning
after I finished my drink,
she began to ask me numerous of questions
and over time the questions got more irritating
she asked about what we have become
and I said nothing in response
she began begging me for answers
trying to make me break out of my cocoon but I don't budge
finally in a heat of the moment
I snatched her unfinished tea and splash it on her face
it was still hot, and she began to weep and cry from the pain
other people in the cafe looked over at us with utter shock
some left their tables to comfort her
while others tried to interrogate me on why I did that
I wished I can tell them
on how much I despise my younger self so much
but I know it would be no use
so left the cafe and never step foot their ever again
and yet every time I pass that same cafe
I see her once again but with bandages on her face instead
she whistled a sluggish tune and rock her feet in the air
it looked like she seemed to be waiting for me
but now was not the time

I'm never entering that cafe ever again, but I wonder if she knows that

#coffee #tea

Ejiro Feb 12

Purity comes with a price

I once had this peculiar dream
where the purest thing left within me
was vanishing away softly
and I couldn’t get it back unless it was on a price tag
and during that blissful dream
I paid $50 to a fortune teller
even though the words of a scam was written on her face with permanent ink
with a dim light above our heads
she pulls out a crystal ball with scratches and small little cracks on it
as if it has been used as a toy way before
I take my palms out and interlock with her fingertips
she began to send tiny shock waves that tingled down my spine
during the process the crystal ball started to break more and more
until she lets go of me with a gasp expression
I asked what was wrong but she didn’t respond
her face turned pale like snow and after she calmed herself down she rose me to my feet
“I saw a glimpse of you..from the past, present, and future and yet your soul was still at ease with numbness” she said
I was confused at first until I saw my reflection on the cracked crystal ball
“Your soul is tired and it begs to be heard” she said with a sad expression
at first I paid her to read my fortune
but now she tries to be a psychic (a horrible one at most) upon my behalf
after the secession was over I wanted to give het a tip but she refused
saying I should pay back when I become pure

but how can ones’ soul become pure again,
when it only found comfort in sorrow?

I don’t really know if I had this dream, but it’s hard to tell the difference between a false reality and a dream that didn’t feel melancholy

Ejiro Feb 11

Bruised up kneecaps

it was a hot summer day
where the crickets hummed in tune
while the raging sun leaves remnants of sweat pouring down my forehead
the sidewalk was burning up every millisecond
to the point were you’re able to fry bacon on the concrete instead of using a grill
during that time period
I was learning how to ride a bike without training wheels
but unfortunately no one was around to keep me up float
so there I was in the middle of the sidewalk
with my pink sparkly bicycle and my small helmet attached to my head
one foot was on the ground while the other was touching the boiling concrete surface
with one big push
I began to move forward but in wobbly directions
trying to keep myself steady on the pedals
until a moment later a crack on the sidewalk hit the front wheel
and soon my body collapsed onto the ground
with my knees first and then my entire torso
I weeped with pain but the burning sun
was the only one who heard me
I yelled for my parents but only silence responded to me
my knees were scraped and had small cuts with blood oozed all the way down till it touched my shoelaces
those few minutes felt like hours
and until the sun faded away slowly
I began to recover from my tears
I tried to stand but gravity pushed me down
with little strength in me I used my bicycle as a tool to push me up until I was able to stand with a limping manner
I was not the same person no more
and so as I walked home
my parents finally came to me asking questions of what happened to my knees
but I kept my voice low
for it was only the raging sun that heard my mourning hours
and that was enough for me

Ejiro Feb 8

His image covers my silence

I made my mother cry one day
it was from a accident I had done
and on that same day
I knew what she viewed me as
I wanted to apologize for my actions
but she only heard the sound of the man she despised
echoing through my voice
when I realized what she saw within me
I began to tear my face apart
but I couldn't
never in my life have I thought
I have turned into the person
I didn’t want to become
the feeling of ashamed
running through my veins
pouring through my tears
and ever since that unfortunate moment
I began to cover every mirror in my path
worried about seeing him
through my reflection
And every time I saw my face
through the mirror’s gaze
I feared I'd see his trace.
So I covered every mirror near,
hiding from the growing fear.
But running never heals the past,
and hiding shadows doesn't last.
One day I stood and faced the glass,
and saw myself no longer masked.
I found my mother, soft but strong,
and told her where I had gone wrong.
She held my hand and let me see
I wasn't him but just simply me