Moss-covered voice I've
forgotten long time ago.
I am not my ears.

I'll say these meaningless words
over and over and over again:
I love you
I love you
I love you

Even when I think of you as God;
I love you

Young blood, heated and dried
Dead head
You had crawled
Sickeningly sweet

I long for you
Funny duchess!
My Mary ---

Even though my tongue knows only clichés
and sometimes my tongue is too short
to speak human and the other times
my tongue is too long I think it
becomes python ---

I wish you were not dead;
Be here with me
You, omnipresent
I wish I could believe --

You wrote the bible with your own pretty hand --
Your ****** head (my sunrise)
Throbbing heart (still exists)
You have soul like universe
Objectified, scientified

How did you put it in?
And a nebula
Sickeningly sweet
I hope for no regret
Yet I am afraid

Of pureness -- your lethal-honest yellowness --
Spreads like **** pictures
Peanut butter on the bread in an easy morning

My, blonde thing!
Dark eyes, the nights
Spent crying
Why did you die, why did you die---

O why did you die?

Why did you die?

The freshness of youth
hits my face like sweet sea tides.
Wake up, girl! Just be younger today.
Your dying soul -- it is not rotten
yet.

We do not have summer nor winter,
girl, you decide your own season.

Eat well, sleep enough, brush your teeth, wash your hair, go to shower!
And clean laundry, honeybee, as important as cheery selfie.

Small thing by small thing,
I know you can do it.
Never again let your books cry at night, pretty.
Read them, all of them.

Go to school
to make friends.
Do your silly homeworks.
Don't listen to your teachers,
just read. Read your books,
read them, all of them.
Don't change major. You know where you
are
going to.

Small thing by
small thing. Easy! You are bigger than those
small things.

Your time being old is over,
daisy, now you may
be
young
forever.

My eye of storm; she
had taken my storm away even
before I was born.

Hot bath, food poisoning and sour breath;
I made it all
up inside my head.

Mama, I do not want to eat
and I don't want you to know it.

I am glad you do so well without me
but too bad, fears aren't what stay like rocks.
They breathe like fire and grow like children.
I lost them once and they never come back,
o my poor lost children I still love them!

Mama, I just took a proper shower.
I know I should not be so proud, but
the water was black and so cold and the soap and shampoo were mocking my filthy skin.
I was strong. I am strong.
I am glad you do so well without me.

I was Mother Mary once, you did not know it.
You have lots of grandchildren but I lost all of them so I cannot show you how they have grown like haunted trees and abandoned churches.
You taught me motherly love, Mama,
not how to prove it.

I became a garden but the minerals kept falling from
the pores and eyes. I could not be good soil.
The hibiscus and jasmine and frangipani I wanted to grow
are now as dead and confused as my chest.

My head is one native tomb.
How could I not find a name?

I am doing very well, Mama.

Just that I kept thinking I am at home.

I cannot eat without a friend
and I haven't showered in days.
That is why I write, I guess.

I do not brush my teeth anymore but
when we were staying over
I brushed them two times a day.
That is how I write;
so human.

My tongue tastes stale and my scalp
feels like a bathroom rug.
I've never listened to music this much before.
I did not like sounds. Still don't.
I hope my ears would bleed so I could write about it.

Oh I only can write;
so human.

I do not read. Do not speak nor hear.
That is why I write.

There were days when I could not write.
There will be more.
More. More. I hope it's not today.

I only can write!

Where is my thunder?
It isn't under the bed
nor under my scalp.