Strange Skeleton Knight
Why do you fight?

You're so fragile
Yet you take on my burdens without being asked
Why must you be so eager to die on my behalf?

Don't you deserve to live too?

Mr Skeleton Knight
Why don’t you cry?

You never make a sound
Yet your sadness echoes deafeningly
Do your bones not feel cold out in the dark?
Does not being able to shed tears make you unable to release your sadness?

Can I cry on your behalf?

Sir Skeleton Knight
What did you do with your heart?

Did you tear it out to stop yourself from feeling?
Did you give it away along with the rest of yourself?
Even someone without flesh and organs shouldn't look so empty inside
Why can't you get your heart back?

Can I give you mine instead?

Noble Skeleton Knight
Do you like the grave I've dug you?

I'm glad that you haven't buried yourself yet
But I'm sure you don't feel the same way
Then why don’t you let your soul rest?
Wouldn't the warm dirt hug you more than anyone else has?

I don’t think I can help you anymore.

Beloved Skeleton Knight
I’ve killed myself

I hope you don't think that your existence was a tragedy
Though in the end I never managed to make you feel alive even once
I’ve told them to bury me next to your grave
Promise me that you'll stay at my side
Atleast now we can be cold and empty together.

Why do you still look so sad?

The sky forgets what colour to wear
The wind turns solid
The clouds thins into transparency
The rainfall feels dry

The puddle doesn't reflect anything
The rivers walk instead of run
And sea refuses to kiss the shore
The ocean rejects the moon

The moon trips chasing the Earth
The sun gets goosebumps
Gravity stops giving weight
Light does a double take

The sunflower forgets what direction to look

All of nature, collectively, felt nervous
And blushed
At the sight of you

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Sunday
I search for that day
That we can be together
I haven't found a way
But I know you're out there, my treasure

It doesn't have to be for forever
I don't need a dozen years or 8 months
Not a week
But perhaps for just one day
I'll be the one you seek

So for you, I'll look
In empty churches
In crowded bars
In long books
In dying stars
In forgotten poems
In 90s songs
In wet dreams
In the bottom of ponds
In river streams
In a sunset's view

For that day, where you would look into my eyes and feel about me how I feel about you

And you'll understand
In my search.. all the things I went through

Yet.. maybe.. a day like such
Doesn't exist in this world
So it only makes sense, that I search the universe too

When we finally touch souls
Maybe we'll lock eyes behind distant stars
And wrap around eachother in black holes
Our Celestial Bodies colliding
Making supernovas out of control
We'll kiss as we ascend
Devouring eachother whole
Falling in love again and again

And we'll be amazed
Of how all of this.....
Almost wouldn't have happened
But it will

Somewhere in this timeline
Maybe it won't last a day
Perhaps not even a minute
But for just one second
Time will stay still
For a moment
Not long enough to measure
For just one breath
For just one glance
For that one heartbeat
I'll finally find you, my treasure.

Tell me
That gun that you're so proud of
Why does it tremble so much?
Is your hand following your unstable mind?
Is that the same hand that holds your child's?

Your emotions
Fragile enough to be crushed with a hug
Insecure enough to attack a compliment
Corrupt enough to endlessly reload on lies and deceit
Are those the same emotions you shoot into your wife at night?

Your bullets roar so loudly
What voices are you trying to drown out?
Your heartbeat clanks at the speed of the fallen shells
What are you so afraid of?
A man armed and ready to go off at any moment like you?

Tell me
What can you manage to defeat?
With those trembling hands
Uncertain of what to take aim at
You shoot down anything that moves
Uncertain of where the trigger is
You pull at anything you can reach
Uncertain of how much enemies are left
You forever stay in the trenches
I now know that when you bow your head at church that it's not for prayer

Then hoping to nullify your senseless you refuse to leave the battlefield
And take no-mans-land everywhere you go

You wear your bulletproof vest and rifle to the supermarkets, schools, offices, dinner tables, churches, and funerals

Forever firing
Forever charging
Forever defending
Forever fighting
Yourself.

What remains in the aftermath of love?

As streets are built without sidewalks
As neighborhoods no longer have use for streetlights

As parks and sunsets turn into myths
As the stories of lies and deceit become the only nursery rhymes we pass on

As *** becomes as mundane as eating bread
And ****** become larger and more frequent than church communions

As ***** become cheaper than blood

As faces become so interchangeable they're impossible to remember
And names turn into secrets

What remains?
When everywhere is no man's land

When childbearing is just a rare, yet escapable punishment from God

When children migrate in swarms between families like birds escaping winter

When love is just but a militarized weapon used for enslavement

When humanity is emancipated from their emotions

Shall we celebrate our independence by clearing our contacts list and changing numbers?

Shall we start each new year by picking a new stranger to stave off our hunger for the night

When we stone those who learned each other's middle names

When we lock away anyone greedy enough to keep someone to themselves
And the married are sent to live in the madhouse

When the war of love have ended
And no one's heart returns home

What remains?

It wasn't that sunny out
Just overcast enough to have a picnic in the garden
You never liked when it was too sunny
It made you uncomfortable
It gave you the feeling of being thrown on a stage without a script
Spotlight shining into your eyes
Followed by the anxiety before a performance

You didn't know if a bad performance is better than none at all
Yet here you were, on a stage set with hibiscus and orchids
With the sun shining in your eye
Wait no, not the sun
Her name was Soleil
She just had eyes like the sun
And she wanted an unrehearsed dance
Before you could realize, her spotlight had already engulfed you
You never liked when it was too sunny
Yet you're here smiling and not feeling too uneasy

So you danced, leaping from shadow to shadow
She came closer, shining even brighter
You covered your eyes
While the shadows under your feet disappeared
You wanted to retreat with them but it was too late

You, who never liked when it was too sunny
Now found yourself engulfed in her heat
Evaporating with no cloud cover to save you

Mercilessly, she, who wanted an unrehearsed dance
Started dancing with you
The hibiscus and orchids caught fire by her feet
She took no pity of them
You didn't either, knowing you were joining them soon

You watched as she reached to touch you
She held you like paper
As if she was ready to forge the sun's signature on you
You held her like a dancer who forgot what move came next

Without warning, she removed the cover from your eyes
And set fire to your lips
And set fire to your body
And set fire to your garden
Yet you smiled with the taste of the sun lingering on your tongue

This was the first time you've tasted fire
And you didn't want it to be your last
You thought, maybe it wasn't that bad to be ignited in her spotlight like this
She whispered into something your ear but you couldn't speak Goddess
But you knew that all you wanted to tell her was "encore".

I uprooted the only thing that I've ever planted.
The blood of its petals falls lighter than my tears.
As if my emotions held no weight.
I know that I must move on.

But the hole of what used to be.
Left in a garden where beauty used to grow.
Feels so painfully empty.
Begging to be filled.

I cry into the hole
Where I know nothing will grow from.
I think to myself if maybe I would've nurtured it more.
But my thoughts feel so pointless.
My words shatter loudly as they fall out of my hands

I can't even cry in silence.

Here is a poem

I made it from the words I found on buses, newspapers, blowing in the afternoon wind
and in daydreams.
And from the words you never told me..
Like "I won't give up on you"
Or "I'm staying".
I assembled them along with the leftover words from my suicide notes.

Just for you.
Just like how our lost brothers used to make them.
Or would've.
I want to see these words living on your lips.
Or falling down your cheek.
Or Running Along Your Wrists
OR WRAPPED AROUND YOUR NECK
Or even just reflected at the back of your eye.

In the hope that you'll receive a call at 3am on a Sunday morning about these words.

Then hear them again on the evening news.
About how they were found ISOLATED, HANGING in the dark,
AND SPILLING ACROSS THE ROOM.
Haunting it for centuries to come.
Let them talk about how it was the words.
Instead of one of us.

I wasted my time watering a rose that will never bloom.
Every day I woke with the false hope that my dream will come true.
Every day I slept disappointed and heartbroken.
I've become addicted to tending to it even if it didn't want me to.

The rose withers.
Yet my dedication does not die.
This flower represents more than my hard work.
It has always represented my unachieved dreams and the beauty that life hid from me.

The flower becomes long dead but I remain in denial.
As a vacuum widens within my heart.
I continue to work and pray for a miracle.
Something died along with my rose.
A lot died along with my rose.

A miracle occurred - I uprooted the red corpse; destroying everything that I have ever idealized.
I look at the dried broken petal and I see everything that I've ever lost.
Yet I continue tending to it.
It now bathes in my tears.

Your undiluted colors flow so loosely
Leaving a messy trail wherever you go
I clean it up anyway
I'm mesmerized by its purity

My palette doesn't span so many shades
There's only so much colors I can even name
But yours... I didn't know that one brush can hold so much in it

The way you run it on my canvas
Making every page become so soaked
That I'm afraid it'll tear apart at any moment

Though because you don't let the colors dry into place
Everything drips right off
So the pieces you make never become permanent
And as you refuse to be diluted
Your palette empties so quickly

Leaving me to realize
That you'll never be a part of my portfolio
And you'll be art
That no one can ever own.
I'm broken by how easily
Your beautiful colors are washed away.