*******
for all those people who care for you
*******
for all the warmth given to you
*******
for all that sweetness as choices
*******, ******* so much
just *******
and
*******
and ******* and ******* and *******
and
*******
for all those people who care for you.
*****
you.

when poetry does not heal
when your face is all watery
when poetry does not heal
when you can't even feel misery
your words have left and won't come back
replacements are always worse
drowsier oh and drowsier
today poetry does not heal
all it says is retire and oh retire
today poetry does not heal
tomorrow is such a big deal

v.

My short black hair
would soon grow
long. In times like
this I do not want to
remember you.

Your fancy poetry
does not touch me.

Her hair is
blooming flowers;
black asters with
some black swan's feathers.
When she smiles
you can see poetries
flowing from her eyes.
I can imagine
that when she cries,
it would be sea tides
and the shore
would sing mermaid songs.
A mermaid would come
silently
and cry
with her.
Each of her heartbeat
is one unique quake.
When she falls
in love
you can feel it
on your feet ---
the earth approves.
When her heart breaks
you can feel it --
your sternum cracks,
your ribs loose,
the lungs fly away
to where
the hope fades.

vii.

I was 10 when I thought
seven years from then I would marry
a super blinding-kind-of-rich 82
year old
dying
man.
It was a normal thought.
He would be sitting
on a park bench.
It would be
a calm afternoon.
I would sit
beside him and we would
share a heaven-like
smile. We
would talk
about warmth
and love
and life
and death
and hope and I
would remind him
of the sweet old days
when his deceased wife
was still
together
with him.
He would love me
like crazy but I
would never
do. I would just
pretend and
gain his family's
trust and wait
for him
to die.
I would be filthy rich
at such a young
age.
And, once again, it was a normal thought.
I swear it was a normal thought.

What's funny
is
today is the
day
said and I
can't
even
talk
to
people.

Beware when they look fine
Because that's when the tremble leaves their hand

I want crazy, I want cranky
Let me be that old woman who gets mad easily
Let this misogynistic society grow so great it will never be over oh no
Crush me, objectify me
Romanticize the way I dehumanize myself
Discriminate me
I am the stigmas, don't free them from me
I will drink your *** and be happy
Break me, let me crumble
I am a lump of inedible meat
Make a bet on my rushing blood
Don't lose, don't lose oh you will win for sure
Just say it and ***** on my mouth
Don't let me have worth without you
I am lesser than a slave, don't let me stare at your eyes
Play with my broken bones, cut my veins as you please
Make me beg, step on me
I am watermarked and it says your name
And yes this heart beats for you to stop
It can start again if you say so
You are the God, just do everything you want, just do everything you want
I can't not take it
I am inanimate
I am inanimate
I am inanimate

Too much things to do
I could just pretend to care then ignore

Too much places to go
I could just pretend to ignore but I can't anymore

This body can take it but
This mind is too weak

vi.

just how much love
which existence
should i lie about?

Forcing to bleed the words
My empty veins
I wish I were more fire than the last time I took myself to the space where elephants were singing sweet summery songs and
Do you know what time is it? My watch is broken and I don't want to know how to fix it and even if I want to I would never fix it because it has the right to be broken and I respect it and the tub is full of filth I really want to bathe in it. I wish ending a sentence were easier than ending a life, but, really, there is no such thing as easy as
No, I will never say that there is no such thing as easy as loving you because I no longer do. I no longer do. I no longer do.
My brother said that I had to learn to lie, or else I would not survive in this society. He did not know that I lied a lot but this might be a lie. I just want a fever so high, a fever so high my face turns blue. I always adore the blue fire, it seems perfect. Yes. Perfect is the right word. I don't know what you were expecting when you started reading this, but whatever it was, I would disappoint you for sure. But please just keep reading. Just keep breathing here. Leave a breath, a spit is better. Do not blink when I say I love you. Because it would be a
I left the cravings and the longings at home, but the home keeps following me and it keeps following me even though I run and run and run but I always finish last among turtles. I remember I had a small turtle and I killed it. It was killed not by my hand but by its own hand but it was me who killed it. Just like the heart that is long forgotten, the dust is now one meter thick, nothing works anymore, have a nice trash bin! Zero glass is enough. I ***** as much as I breathe and that's why sunflowers are yellow and daisies don't grow on your head but dried forget me nots keep blooming and blooming and blooming and the world explode in the divinity of your love to her but this might be also a lie.
Red hibiscus and the pink ones I saw every afternoon on my way to the bus stop. I wanted to live at the chapel where I cried two times, first was forgotten and second also was, as if the rain would give you more hope, more hope, the more I hope I could just forget you.
I don't know who you are.
I am going to continue this as long as the brown of the wood stays as itself but no this is from another poem and I dont want to remember anything anymore I dont want to finish this I dont even want to start this and when you look for punctuation you end like how your mother would **** herself on your wedding day oh no that would not happen because

When I speak clear
I am boring (and awkward)
(Not that when I don't I am not)
I hate these feelings
(Not that these really are feelings)
Isn't this circle too tiny?
I am back to that phase again
The words left me with none
(Yeah, you may say these are words
But these aren't really really words)
----
Each word has a soul;
I think I just killed them yet
Again

v.

the teenage girl
overcoming fears
rising
head first
nonexistent rock bottom
mistakenly thought as sky ---
for her
only gravity
is suitable

I am adding more and more poems
No matter what they are supposed to be called
No matter what numbers would define them
This is a life; not yet mine, but
I am building a home
A place where I can feel safe
A place where I can feel ugly
without being ashamed of it
Here is a life; not yet mine, but
I am still fighting
I am fighting
And I am planning to win.

iv.

warmth
makes me
shiver

why does it touch you deeper
when i say what i write
is based on a true story?

here and now i use no capitalized word
here and now it's him i remember
for it's him who said:
"small letters are more humble"
you know, this is based on a true story;
i met him but not really
my longhands reached him
far, far away from here
surpassed lands and seas
o, how large is my country --
his equals plus one to my gmt
here foods are sweet and there are spicy
he hated and still hates the food here;
it reminds him of the tyrant
who'd only cared about
the west but not that west
and made the east poor and slaved --
he was one of those who
yelled reformation when i was
only nearly two

i am seventeen and so was he --
when i was born.
i love how thirteen connects
our birthdates;
mine is twelve and his fourteen
and i said to him thirteen was my
favorite number
and purple was my favorite color
for his was blue but
i thought of him as red --
red not of the lust but
red of the color of tomatoes --
his mother was a tomato seller
and since i had known that,
tomatoes began to taste sweeter
sweeter than ever

when i said i liked purple
i didn't know it was the color of
the rain,
his first love ever --
when he was just a kid
he wanted to marry her
but then he learnt at school
the rain is not a girl at all
not even alive
he couldn't marry her but
he still loves the rain
so i do too

you know,
i once was an anti-coffee
i used to drink only and only tea but
he loves coffee
so i do too
i once sent him
my favorite coffee along with
a ta-ta-for-now letter
and he replied to me electronically
with a stabbing sad emoticon
:(
it still stabs
but then he said
the coffee was good
and i smiled
but he didn't know it

do you know
what's better
than a cup of coffee in the morning?
"it's two cups of coffee"
he'd say something like that
so this morning i decided to
have a super sweet tea,
sugar so much it
almost tasted like soda --
every gulp was
painful
to my soul.
i almost found the
god in me if i had drank the second cup but
i made coffee instead
no sugar like i always had
not because i like bitterness
it's because every drop of coffee is him
and he is sweet enough already --
but i broke the rule of two
this morning i had
three cups of coffee
three cups of him
and it wrenched me --
la douleur exquise
-- the heart wrenching pain
of wanting someone you can't have

i don't even have a single autograph
of him
i hoped that he would write me letters
with that pretty handwriting of his
but at the same time
i was afraid that he wouldn't
so i sent him bunch
without an address to reply to --
you know, this is based on a true story;
he is a writer
but he doesn't really like
to be called a writer
because a writer will be jealous
of another great writer so
he calls himself a reader instead
and he embraces his thirst of great books
he is a librarian
he lives around the books
he lives for and from the books
he has three cats
and seems like he will
have more cats and more
like his mother,
his mother loves cats too
it's prophet muhammad's favorite pet
or so he said
on the radio

he is a poet
a broadcaster on a local radio
every friday and saturday
and at the end of the broadcast
he will read poems
sent by emails
even you can send your poem
but not all poems can be read
there are so many, you know
here we really love writing poetry
but few like reading it
like me
i read his poems
not because i loved reading poetry
it was because
it's his, it's him

but now
he has done what he should do
he has completed his role
he has made me believe in poetry
he saved me from the disbelief of poetry
he taught me that poetry
could heal
he said that writing poetry
is hugging
and reading it
is returning the
hug
he would read a lot of poems
when he is sick
and now
that's what i do too

he was the one who kept
my feet on the ground
every time i felt down
i sang silently a7x's m.i.a.
lend me your courage to stand up and fight
so he lent me his courage
so i could stand up and fight
and every time this life
felt so wrong, lacked meaning
i remembered his name
and a promise i promised
to him
on my own mind
"don't die before we meet"
yeah, i wouldn't die
i would never die

there was no other way for us
than being yinyang
and that's why i decided to
hate what he loves
he loves coffee
but i couldn't hate it
he loves poetry
but i couldn't hate it
he loves rain
but i couldn't hate it
he loves sylvia plath
but i couldn't hate sylvia
i can't ever hate sylvia
i can't stay away from his sylvia
i love her
and she loves me back
sylvia is my earth
and that's how i realize
he and i can't ever be --

you know, this is based on a true story;
because i say so.

envy
kills
slowly
so
slowly
you think it makes you
stronger

Some of you will love me
Because my soul is ugly
Because you can be more pretty
When you are around me

ii.

I have heard Sia's voice
First was on Titanium's music video
Which I clicked out of bore
Second was-- There was no second time
(Maybe there will be)
I cannot remember how Sia sings
All I want is to hear
Holly covering songs
(Somehow Holly reminds me of Zac)
Holly's voice is not the kind of sound
You would fall for in a second
It is true love you will feel --
How John said it is just perfect;
Like falling asleep
Slowly, slowly, then all at once
(I don't know how many times
This has been mentioned on hellopoetry)
I didn't really read romance
But M said (not to me),
If you want to write romance,
Write it like John did TFIOS
(Not that I want to write romance
Or write anything worth reading)
And this would appear as boring
And random, but no:
I remember, M said that
Usually the sentence that begins with
'Honestly'
Doesn't really contain that much honesty
So
Honestly,
Those above (and below) aren't really the things
I wanted to talk about
(It's confusing, if you think about it more)
I don't know anymore
How many times this Sia's Chandelier
(Holly's cover, of course)
Has been repeated
(Over and over again)
I remember, my favorite before this was
Marina and the Diamonds' Teen Idle
I remember Holly cut some part of the lyrics
It reminded me of Zac
Or was it Gwen?
I really like mixing up things-
Really
I like being here
The locked door of the bathroom
Makes me feel safe
And the toilet seat
Has known me
Better than myself
It is like a mother, or an other self
Who just accepts me for who I am
It knows the most of me
How I move, cry, and smile and laugh
How I sing, how I scream
Even how I grow, how I fall and die
How I tried to ******* and gave it up
How I became me, how I am me
And not only hows but also the tiring whys
It knows
It accepts
But I will leave
Soon
And this bed and this messy room
And the hidings and the accidental leakings
And the family's warmth and their love
I will leave
Soon
Sorry not sorry
That I am happy
To leave
Soon

iii.

There is no place to hide
So **** false identity
I will soon be forgotten
So **** shame, **** filter
They say people are people
Because of their secrets
Because they are mysteries --
It's my wish to be nothing
I want to let go
I want to let go

It's hard to be a human
I am too complex to be none
I once thought
I wanted to be an amoeba
And I think I still want it
It is a lot better than to have these organs
Especially this brain
I don't like this brain
It manipulates me
It controls me
It thinks for me and without it I am stupid
When would I be free?
I want the freedom to think
Brain, don't control me
Let go of me
Let go of me

All I want is honesty
I want truth
Live in truth, breathe in truth
Know only how to
Say only the truth
**** fears
I am afraid
To be nothing
To tell anything
To know anything
When I made this account
I forgot to rehumanize
People other than me
(Not that I did rehumanize myself)
I didn't expect you all
To be so human
**** fears
I am afraid

She used to dream a lot
She really loved it
Until one day
A dream came true

ii.

They say it's a fear of living
Yet they deny
That the other is a fear of dying

iii.

They say suicide is a sin
And your soul was sent to hell
But if that's true
How cruel your God is

iv.

Who needs God?
You were God once;
Now you can't be tamed.

For you the hell was icy
And devil's breath was frost
You were never ready for it
Cold shower had never helped
Sleeping in refrigerator
The ice cubes
For lunch, dinner, breakfast,
Lunch, dinner, breakfast-
You had your head
In the freezer all the time-
Wrong choice
More and more nightmares
You just could not be helped
People's stares only made it worse
Your blood vessels couldn't take it more
Mouth glued by frozen saliva
Eyes open all the time due to hardened tears
More and more nightmares
You were never ready for it
You were never ready for any coldness

You were loved
It was a burden
You thought it would be unfair
To not return the love
So you let the deafening silence
Fill the room where your voice
Should have been

I know
You were afraid to love
And now
So am I
If it is not
You

How could you find
beauty in something beautiful?
I once saw a sunset
too glorious, too magnificent ---
The dizzying, striking beauty made me
shiver, tremble,
shudder.
Almost seemed like White's dear Great Evil Queen,
but actually it wasn't,
it was God! Making fun
of your disgustingly ***** sins
And mine, and mine,
and mine --
My eyes burned in fright!
My unconscious teeth --
If only I hadn't closed my eyes
My tongue would bleed and burst
in red, red of the blood clot
And black black shades of my heart
In a twine they are
Matching the cries
of the evening birds
of the dying leaves
of the gangs where children are *****
of the rivers which bottom's made of bodies
The red clotting; Shaded it black
Black black of the foolish, blunt heart ---
If only I hadn't closed my eyes
I would have been beautiful
Like the grand, whirled yellow-red sky
The so-called sunset
The God masked in the event of setting sun
And you would see me
And you would know it's impossible
To find beauty
In something beautiful
And you would
Shiver and
Tremble and

Shudder.

When I feel lonely
I love.

(i.)

the frail kid
singing sand
brand new friend
leaving already
developing meaning
the word lonely
a killer pool
tattoed arm
naked as ***** baby
insecurity never felt
that pure
fishes and sisters
the kindergarten
now collapsed playground
right milktip, left milktip
how could you miss
the ones you do
not even
remember?
the hell keeps
leveling up

ii.

Why should I change?
Last night's scent
is all I need to mend.

Jesus, I be lifted higher
Higher, higher
Be lifted higher
Even though we are not the same
Different ways
And we walk on different path
Different road
I just copied that from somewhere
But it matches
With the notes
And be as one
Holding each other's hand in gratitude
Jesus, my arm is not that long
My mind is not that strong
I still have a picture of you on my phone
At night I delete it
The morning after I find you again
It is the lost children's song, it has no end
I can't hear you when I practice on bath
I can't feel you when the water fills me up
Magdalene would not come
It is Natalia
It is Natalia
Now you know who you are
Pictures of daisies on the front page
The blond, long hair
Ensnare my neck, my legs, even the chest
Heart not beating, it is quiet
Is it a candle or a sun? It just burns
The dark is casted away
But you say, dim the light because it helps
How could I not be your migraine?
Different gem pierced on your heart forever
Not really forever, just feels like it
The wounds never be healed
Seven lied that I would make a good healer
These hands are full of barb wire
Colored red of the blood or is it just corroded-
I dare not touch, I dare not move
It would hurt,
it would hurt not you, don't you think I care
Like the sword it is two edged
I need to sharpen my teeth for
the most I could do is biting my thigh
I am a baby trapped in the physique of an adolescent
I don't know I must praise you
And that it's you who is being lifted higher
My ****** friend says
There are a dozen or
two; At two I remember you
Still waiting at that cafe?
It is not me whom you are waiting for
I shouldn't have waited for seventeen years to come
It could have been a coincidence
It could have been real
It could
Not
Be possible and cannot ever be
We do not have the bridge
Ran out of concrete
It reminds me of Tanabata
The kind of one sided Tanabata
Today when I see the stars
I would cry

A *** of chrysanthemum tea
And a roll of toilet paper
The sheer long black skirt
As if God is hanging around my waist
The black, waving, my ocean depth sweetness God
I will not confuse you, no more
Jesus was dead, Jesus is dead
You will not die, never
But i am going to ruin it by saying
at least not now

No one could **** you
Not even yourself
I am your tombstone
No one would ever find me
The dull little mermaid's knife
You know she chose to come back home
She is now all over the world
One drop of tear in one great ocean
You are one big fish in my cute aquarium soul
Do not worry, do not fear
for you are with me
You are safe and this afternoon we will have tea with Friedrich
The nails the cross the skull of Golgota
I promised to not confuse you with him, no more

Another country's flag printed on your boxer
Your silky silk skin
Your cold touch
The freshness of your tears you gulp every bath
The lampshade color calm as your rose blood
Sticks and stones, you break them with your bones

Will you ever forget me?
I found you on particles
I found you playing the guitar
on the song they say is Satan's
The wood panels
The cursed tabernacle glowing red light
Cemeteries to cemeteries
your dimming jeté
Butterfly gestured hand
You fly, but can you float instead?
Vanilla ice cream and false cherries
The no smoking sign is laughing
You will not die

You may open your cage and set yourself free
Unfortunately aquarium has no key
It has no key
It has no key
Break it and they will find me
They will find me
Your tombstone, me
You are never free
You are never free

When i wake up i will die
I will die sitting as you are sleeping on my lap
And you will not wake up and cry for my warmth is infinite
You think i am not dead
You think i am not dead

When i was a kid i thought i wouldn't want to marry
Though marrying doesn't mean having children
Maybe i thought i wouldn't want to have ***
It's just terrifying to think that i could just accidentaly have a kid
Children are scary
How they scream and laugh and cry and run
How those eyes stare, so brave, mysteriously intimidating
I am afraid
I won't ever have a child, i thought

But then i found that
it is so calming
To think of Assia and Shura
Together
Following Sylvia
Following Sylvia
I would like to have a child too
A daughter would be perfect
Or a son or an intersex, it doesn't matter
I just need her
I need my Sylvia
I need to follow Sylvia
I will follow her and will not leave her
She is not Jesus and i don't need to leave her and she will not ever leave me
We, Sylvia and i, will be one
This one infinite warmth
This one infinite warmth

iii.

boiling bath
frosty shower
scorching head
frigid heart

White bed sheet
Strangely picked wallpapers
White eyes, white eyes
Die
Army and explosives
Molotov never did taste this sweet
Yellow lights, beware of God
Pray for us sinners? No ---
Let Mary Jane sing
the sonnet alone
Let Marionette
see your death
Believe her, believe her
No Jesus would be
Stop praying the Rosary, stop it
Don't you want to puke when you hear
Hail Mary? Führer! Führ---
You live like Cleopatra
whose tongue was a cobra
whose eyes were the black swans
on the lake where you first
drown
yourself. Are you Narcissus?
I am an echo
An echo not Echo
The smell of rain won't ever
Won't ever
Won't ever
Won't ever

Peeled toad's skin
Like an apple's
The Cs are not enough; Never ---
Crescent moon
Cat's sad eye, another blind
I miss you

I am happy that you exist
though i am not that i do

Tonight i can't write any sad poem, let alone the saddest one. But, typing this makes me realize, how sad this font is. Oh, Eliot, why did you? It looks like it needs a warm hug despite its fear of touch. Oh, oh my, you didn't know it is scared of being touched? It never told you? How insensitive of you. It has told you all, but you refused to listen to the silences. Ah. Why at times like this i remember Dave Pelzer.

I once read a story about this boy. No, not Dave Pelzer. I don't remember his name. But i remember him. He didn't like to be touched. His dad respected it and didn't ever hug him. Instead they spread their fingers out in a fan and connected them to show their love. Slight touch was okay. And enough. The boy knew he was loved.

Um, so, you know, i couldn't find this font's fingers. Can you please tell it that it is loved?

But. But this font is too sad. It will not believe you. Not now. Not later. Not ever. Knowing this makes me sad. But i can't write it out. I am not Pablo Neruda. Tonight i just can't write any poem, let alone a sad one, let alone the saddest one.

Let this font speak it all.

i am healthy
i am happy
i am full of energy
so strong
like a ship
and the storms that come to me
are just like slight wind
nothing can wreck me
and i believe
i am beautiful
no matter what they say to me
i am the butterfly, i am the phoenix, i am the sky
i am the universe
you all live inside me
i am unique
i am irreplaceable
such a gem i am
so special
i shine bright
my smile is sunshine
my eyes have moonlight
my heart is a home for everyone
my soul is sea tides
my brain hates ignorance
i am witty
and so funny
i am now telling
the joke of the day
not yet finished
all audiences gone
they do not understand
this is the real comedy
really, i really have no sense
of others' sense of humor

i was collecting pieces of the freedom
putting them here and there
on the iron, the calcium, and water
and every one meter on the soul
but then i realized
how ***** my thoughts are
how cruel i am
how could i trap the freedom
inside these bones and soul?
the freedom
is the most important
to the freedom
the freedom deserves the freedom
so i set it free

hating words
i said to myself
but don't remember
what
separated by a glass door
i was outside
i was inside
which of i was really i?
i saw me
trapped outside
absorbing darts of
hatred
such an unacceptable self
i couldn't go in
i couldn't enter
i wouldn't let me to
pools of tears
but eyes not blurry
i still could see clear
i still could feel and hear
the hatred
the muted screams
all the stabbing feelings
invisible wounds, transparent blood
the anger
the fears
what am i afraid of?
it's me
it's me which i am afraid of
oh come on
who is this me and this i?
stop making fun of
me????

ii.

my heart stops
at the bus stop
it is a jam
that has no end
other than of the world

there is nothing real
your nostrils are one wormhole
and the pores on your face
are small hidden volcanoes
they can errupt any time
though they are just bunch of inactive ones
there is nothing real
not even your fears
that keep you awake for seven years
under the stars who let you burn
in the cold nights when
owls decide to sleep
------
yes i do
i love you too
------
there is nothing real
the bats, the crows
the knife, the bubbles
instead of pearls
flowers are growing out of tears
it makes me happy
like smiling never felt this easy
paint my face pink and orange
dunk my head in stale milk
i am growing peacock feathers
and claws of a phanter's
falling out of a window
there is nothing real

tyndall, my dear tyndall in the morning
why don't you tell me
how blurriness is the majesty
here
when i put my glasses on
and sip the liquid i cannot tell what it is
it becomes foggy
why don't you tell me
how i wish i were a forest fairy
that misty eyes are not what the lake tells
that it is what the lake shows
behind your clothes
there is no skin
you have no flesh
crushed skeleton
yellow as pollen
they named you tyndall with a reason
why don't you tell me
how all of these time i prayed to ra
diana kept giggling and put all my cries
under the label 'noises'
i thought i could trust her
my mother once said so
that she was my other
why don't you tell me
how the striped pants on the runways
are now out of date
how flower prints on the blowing skirts
of ladies who promise you
to gather you to their breast
do not wither
why don't you tell me
i do not have to water
them
don't you see the flow
of liquid i cannot tell what it is
keeps running and running out
i will soon be dry
is it a cactus i see -- i can't even
there's none
you don't have to tell me

or is it just that
the wall and the head
really do love each other

it rains hard
the barren heart
it starts to flood
house of darts

a cup of hot tea
smells of jelly
pain on fingers
all i could think is bones
how my bones
and the sand
will be one
without said promise
it's enough like this
and how my bones
and the fishes
will talk to each other
how good the weather is
how salty the water is
oh, my bones will become
salted bones
glad there's no dog
down there

dive, dive
sink and drown
fill yourself with me, says sea,
feel me become ugly
embrace the agony
it's me, it's me

welcome home, says sand

it becomes warm

when it rains today
i will save some drops
and tomorrow and every day it falls
i will keep the raindrops
so carefully, so dearly
give my heart, all my life
keep them pure and liquid
for the sake of the raindrops
for the sake of the raindrops, that's it
yet
i still can't claim this
as true love

do not wake me up
when i come to you
and kiss your hand
just close your eyes
and sleep
dry lips on your eyelids
not mine, not mine
i am not here
the weight you feel
the warm breath against your skin
the trembling touch on your cheek
not mine, not mine
your doubled heartbeats
caused by too much coffee
please believe me
or not
just close your eyes
just do not wake me up

i will turn off my phone
and look at the door;
as long as the brown of
the wood stays as itself
as long as it is there
as long as i can find it
after every single time blinking
as long as it does not open
as long as the air does not change
as long as i do not know
if you are behind
if you are hesitating to knock
if you are waiting
for me to reach the door ****

they do not know you.
they only know your name,
your face, your skin,
your eyes, your fears,
your cries, your hair,
your smile, your voice,
your dreams, not you.
baby, they do not know you.
no one does; not even you.

who i am, even what i am,
i couldn't care less.
every time the answer comes,
it soon becomes trash.
am i me or am i not me?
who is this me? what is this me?
who i am, even what i am,
i never know.
i never find the answer.
i've had enough of questioning.
let me be a speck of dust blown by the wind
or a dead fish following the stream.
i am not conscious.
i cannot be.
i am an object.
i am not living.
i am dead.
whoever i am, whatever i am,
it's not important ---
*anymore.

ii. Balloons

*Helium head
Neck as string
Flying hopes..
Higher, highest
It pops..

This sad scent on my fingers reminds me of the two kids I saw on the bridge. They were supposed to be selling peanuts and crackers, but they were playing with it instead. It reminded me of the photograph of a child ******* with a shabby barbie left on the ground. How cruel the world is. How come the government let this to happen? This must be stopped from happening. We must rise. Revolt. Unite. Yeah. Rise. Revolt. Unite.

"If there is not justice for the people, let there be no peace for the government." ~Emiliano Zapata

Lol no just kidding. Who cares about it. This sad scent on my fingers just reminds me of

you.