art is
blood

we cut
our
souls

on purpose

sometimes
it trickles

sometimes
it oozes

and

sometimes
it spurts

and always
we create

these scars

we heal
but never

hide

I like puddles
So I jump in a puddle
It makes me muddled
I’m pretty confused
So take me to Dr.Lee
So that I can function correctly
Then I can jump in a puddle again
Thanks.

Said yes but you meant no
Last time I was on these roads
I was chasing money
I was running for the paper
Now the money chases me
I run from the winter

Where will you go?
I am not accepting
myself in a windowless
vault.

The luxury of
kinship takes a toll.

Will it make a
difference, if you don't
fill in the missing words
in the message unwritten?

It works to ****
yourself for the sake
of dying light,
before the blood moon rises.

There was nothing
left to say.

give me a number,
the appropriate label,
and compare me to the rest.

set me aside for a rainy day when you’ve exhausted through your list.

lets face it,
i’m just another: nothing more, nothing less.

everything i am to you
is that which you can see.

you simplify me down
to something for your frail mind read.

sometimes I wonder if this feeling is the voice of my own perceived inadequacy?
will someone ever really just love me for me?

On down the road to Yeosu

Beside Pacific blue

We went with many merry songs

And sought something new

I am tired
Of wanting to create a masterpiece
But not having enough energy to do it.
I feel bored
I want to do something
But when I get up
To create that beautiful masterpiece
I am drawn back by knowing I don't have the talent
And that whatever it is I make
Is never going to be seen
So I realize, what the hell is the point?
There isn't one, I know now
If no one sees what I make
There is nothing that I can do
To make it real
So I guess that I will never be seen
And my great masterpiece will never be revealed