in my dream you were
running like a rat
wearing your fingertoes like
hydrangeas and heartache
in your head
where all the nice things passed out
we built barbed fences around our heart
to keep it still
like a ghastly statue
i had no clue
in my dream you were
planting apple seeds
in a corn field
i gave you a knife
became a mermaid
the last child
and a sea
in my dream you were
shining like a sun
brainlike exploding
having planets around
like flower crown
in my dream
you were
warm mug i'd left at home
three a.m. and homework not done
a highschool girl
long forgotten
in a potrait on your identity card

I am so young
Yet so strong
Strongly salty
Like the seawater
Strongly lazy
Like the wind

I am dull
As a knife I don't have worth
Even pen can stab but I cannot
I am the seawater; I am the wind
I don't need to explain my worth to you

Every morning I wake up with poetry
On the tip of my tongue
On every clip of my nail
My fallen hair
The dead cells on my bed
My greasy face

I open my eyes with poetry
This heart beats in poetry
These erythrocytes carry poetry
I breathe poetry
I live in poetry
I do not need words
Not all poetries are words
And that's enough

let's skip lunch & get this over with
a little dance of a growing flower
one  at a time,  bland  & ignorant
girls tiptoeing, girls daydreaming
the corridor gives us chills
white, green, white,  green
for fear spellbinds,  we resist
will this be enough?

we never broke the walls
we found the door & it was open
w     i     d     e.  rather wide, so "off we
go"?  where? where?
the fountain behind the library
*                          *was beautiful, sister
sure,      it was

Poetry's there to touch.
But, touching without consent
is bad, isn't it?

An atheist experiencing deja vu
An atheist having fear of ghosts
An atheist struggling to live

An atheist meets an ableist
Saying personality isn't such a thing to be divided

I don't believe in you but I have no more than empty

Erasing faces, justifying phases
I am not a moon or I am
I am going to read The Bell Jar for the first time
Or never
I hope I was her

An atheist wishing reincarnation did exist
An atheist's head wrapped by plastic bag

Found you

Another medical pill I don't want to swallow
Triggering white clothes

I am not going to a psychiatrist
Ever

The eye was hurt plenty of times before.
In a hollow filled with nice things,
they overflowed, no one was a baby to a right hand.
In the other hand, field of moms trying so desperately to avoid babies,
moms setting all toilets and fingers as contraception,
moms anxious about boys and suspicious about girls.
Boys apparently had those pregnancy machines and girls were the neutral side,
boys just had to plant smarty seed to see what number would show in girls' innocent tummy.
Boys grow as engineers and the engines often roar like crazy,
though it is now different from what I was taught about girls.
-----------
-----------
Skin was just some other walls,
but, really, skin is marshmallow
even the softest tongue can destroy.
You know, tummy
isn't that really innocent either.
Tummy was a determined sister in a dim church,
tummy was mother mary and holy spirit,
tummy was not an apetite for what wasn't in the tabernacle.
Tummy now has cracked her shell, so I see inside,
apparently tummy has some other things beside a fertile empty land.
The gases and the blood are in different tunnels, though
there is something else about miss tummy womb.
She isn't at all neutral, she isn't at all an item of the season.
She softens every time it rains, she makes
her own weather in her own territory.
I now know, neutral was only the word stuck between scared parents' teeth,
neutral was only the gift we didn't know was a troll,
neutral was only a paradox in the most destructive way possible.
-----------
-----------
Careful with essentially hurtful words, we
sweat, with perfect heat,
as the skins melt into one giant chewy lump.
What I didn't know about skin was
that girls had skin too,
girls just were not in their element back then;
I think girls with metallic things were sinners just a little bit too checkmate,
I think girls were housewives just a little bit too godlike.

I will be dead
and become posthumously insane

and I will remember Suzanne Vega
every time I hear your name

I will take that look
of Vivienne Westwood's

and I will sing and sing and sing
and sink and sink and sink

and I will not think
of the appropriate things

Because I will be dead
and become posthumously insane

Even though long scarf does not suit this neck
and gas oven does not fit this head

and .38 caliber revolver is not
something a 17 year old girl would own

there is no need to worry
because now I know what loves me

It is not the explosion, not the oxygen
Not the carbondioxide, not the cyanide

It is the water, any kind of water
the tears, the saliva, the seawater

And I learnt from Haruki Murakami
that even a plastic bag would do

Mimicking the deepest sea
The sensation is true, is true ----

I remember; you liked a lot the word drown
You liked a lot the word drown

Fallen leaves that are
Nourished by an honest wound ---
Never yet a scar

How sweet of you that you
write my destiny
so I just have to
enjoy the ride
without having
to think of anything
else. I am so
grateful
for that. I do not
have to worry
at all. I just need
to be your
mirror. Your magic one.

How sweet of you that the
reflection you see
in me is all the things you
want to see. I am
your magic mirror.
Your glorious reflection.
I tell what you
want to hear. I be what you
want to see. I hold what
you failed to bear. The dreams
of your waste
d youth ----
Place the pride
on my shoulder.
I am an unbreakable soldier.
Place the armor
on my shell.
I am so small I cannot be empty.
Your care nourishes
me. You make
me believe that I am
loved. I survive, I
can face the world all
thanks to
the warmth you
give to my
iron soul.

I'd rather stay myself and be corroded than melt.

How sweet of you that you
forgive my harsh
words and my ill
gazes and all
those high pitched
voices. I know I
am forgiven for all days
you keep saying
that. How sweet of you
and your forgiving heart and
your genuine fatherly
love. How sweet of you that
you keep giving us
your already stolen
life. I stole it and you
are pleased. I am your magic
mirror. I be
the reflection you want
to see. I hold
the dreams you failed
to bear. Oh, you
write your
own destiny in me.

vi.

just how much love
which existence
should i lie about?

iv.

warmth
makes me
shiver

I've been dreaming of memory losses or i really am losing sense of self

A painting on the room, a girl sits like an ant, three straight haired girls laughing like nothing is happening, another thinking about *** all the time; a boy in a frame, all boys watching ****, all boys eating their own toes;

A tree, a whole tree in your stomach

"Your tongue is going to be enoki farm, that's what i think," he said to a carefully moonlit ice cube, he said that to his mother too, he said that to the taxi driver; now he is becoming lunatic, he wants lake, he wants paper, he wants to drown in the sky

Now is the time, now is not the time, please do not stop, oh, please stop

"Sorry i yelled, i was on my period," a boy says sorry to his grandfather, his grandfather died a year before his adolescence, his grandfather had no ears before he was buried, his grandfather was a bunny, he used to eat carrots a lot that's why a boy sees you with different eyes, that's why a boy sees you with clearer sight

You judge me unfair, but i don't care, it's better than you knowing what i really am

So we are competing, so we want to see who is more terrible at being liar, so we try to hide things in exposures, but you lose, but i also do
So we are objectifying ourselves and we don't want to stop
We love the smell, we long for the reeks, we want hurt, we want the thing they do to sinners, we want fire, we want the burns, we want the pain but we run
And no one thinks of coming back

"A year from now we will become strangers," oh, to shooting stars

But heart isn't the only thing that beats, but heart isn't the only thing that draws blood to your head

I am, i am, i am, losing my legs!

It was another way of saying i love you but you don't understand my stomach is growing, my stomach is alive, my stomach is going to **** me at midnight so i won't sleep, i won't feel sleepy at all, i will see the sun rises, and i won't fear when she is here, i won't fear even when she is outside; she exists and she proves it-

Why can't anyone do the same?*

Life does not go that way, it does not go any way; life is stomachache, life is ******* and marital rapes, life is what your country does to separatists-
"I've been dreaming of wide windows," says the moon, "but there's

None wide enough for me."

Am filling my right eye with sand and i'm blinking fine
So clear, Rumpelstiltskin, i knew your name
But the womb won't do
You yourself have feet like mother --
They are dancing and stamping on you

Realize what they really are
The heart can't beat for so long
You didn't wish you were so strong
In my eyes you are grained,
Enough to feed on your own

And i bit my nails but they
Kept growing long
And i cut my hair but it kept growing long
And the skin is dry, tongue and teeth are dry
The knees tinted pink and they fade-

Back then the chest wasn't so heavy
Too much water, maybe
We kept drying the air, the sky
We kept burying clouds in the lungs
And now are broke for buying too many headstones-

Rumpelstiltskin, i know your name
So clear, now i tell you, the womb won't do
You yourself have feet like mother
Dance and stamp on me -- it won't do
So clear, now i tell you, the villagers never liked you---

We had so much water it was too easy to drown
We had so much water it was so hard to walk
We had so much water we even couldn't talk
So clear, Rumpelstiltskin, i knew your name
Am filling my right eye with sand and i'm blinking fine -- except i stop crying i will be fine

Childlike mind
A body of 97 year old lady
Putting on rubber boots, entering a forest

Cheetah's legs
Giggling, humming
Rotten teeth

Dark, dark, turn on the sunlight
No starlight reaches ground
No moonlight saves sound
Of, of skin wrinkling

Fishy tongue
Silver head
Copper heart
Bleeding

Keep running
Like a cheetah
Giggling, the lake's lost sparks
Drowning

No blue sky for eye
Stomach without butterfly
Let the wind sing, scream, anything

Cheap cone
Melted ice cream
Ants, ants, fire ants
I

do you want to see death?
i have plenty of them
scattered in my eyes--just
look beyond my irises,
you can't
stab my soul;
she is far behind
the flesh and bones
that slowly are turning
yellow like teeth--the yellow
from my skin seeps into
even the darkest of depth.

I have no problems except my body wide as a baseball field except there's no boy in it
and i eat at midnight and when i say stomachache it could mean anything
it could mean my right knee hurts (i am losing my legs) or my thighs are a rainforest except there's no life in it it could mean the sky is falling except i weigh more than it
I have no problems except when other girls are pretending that they are dumb i cannot pretend except i really am
dumb and cannot even read the cuckoo's calling because my father says literature is all **** except that is not his fault having a kid like me except my brain is too wrinkled people think my head's a box of sunmaid
(they begin to eat from my head)
and when i say my face round as a basketball i mean it (i mean it) i can even paint it red except when i see people's eyes i cry and my face boils so that's why i can't keep my mind cool
(i have never been cool anyway)
I have no problems except when i talk i talk superficial and maybe that's why i stop and i never keep the conversation going except i talk to a trash can except i don't want to talk to a trash can except god really does exist
except you don't know what god i am talking about
the god in the face, the god
god heart of a god like you
do you stand at the blackboard, daddy? we sat under the lights and you said, "let's go home, you have curfew, don't you?"
and when my mother talks she talks so much like ******* --- or constipation or another contraction (i can't tell the difference) but i was not answering her calls i am never answering her calls because i am moon not just because the medications or my face because she is goddess not just because motherhood or marital rapes
(I have no problems except when you kissed me you thought it was better than returning my hug except after that you felt sorry except i only wanted more)

he was just a lion
smells like one
bites like one

oh, glad you came
see off all my zoo fantasy
oh, is it too late

you were there, in geography
you were there, avoiding history
you were a flagless country

nothing else feels like rainforest
all green and earth now dry
oh, is it too late

you ruin it for me
he was a lion
you kept pouring asphalt

my mistake it is, my, my bad
i have thighs like rainforest
you forgot

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

I'm sleeping early
Not drinking coffee
Not reading your poetry
To, to avoid you from appearing in my dreams
No, no,
Nothing works

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?

you exhaust me
in the morning
where sunlit  window is in
terrible           defense

empathy is      an open house
come on in,     patients
you've got       the front door
as sicknesses   seep to me

i keep coming back to the hospital
the red beam on my skin
cold hands, everywhere is clean
and i am not sick. not anymore
not ever again

a white ray of light is carrying me
the road leads an empty flesh
the road swallows whatever's inside
i've become hollow even before- and now
i creak open
trying to stuff myself with what doesn't belong

this is a house. this, a hospital
i didn't pay my rent, so i came from the back
i keep coming back to the hospital
my feet, my head, my soul
only the heartbeat is steady. like the earth

that is the sun. that, what shouldn't burn

nurture me, nurses. smile at me like ever
gently feel the fabric of my clothes, doctor
tell me to eat. tell me to rest
tell me to do everything i shouldn't do

isn't that so naughty? to eat? to rest?
i wonder
i keep
i keep wanting to

this, a forever. this is the hallway

my head is compact of lavender clouds
near an ocean of calm planets
harmony, cosmos

blinking your stellar dreary eyes
waltzing with vanished gods
resurrecting banned faith

they build a temple on our tomb
smash the headstone to make charms
meteorite, how you cast at me

who made them worship?
who told them gospel?
we sing psalms, electric

dethrone the crossbearer
inferno is our home
impaired, thunder

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

there shall be no sleep/today is irregular/heartbeats glide and choke//

ii.

smooth thing, you have thighs
seem sweet and chewy, no bake.
please sit on my face.

I haven't yet seen my lover
the mother who brings my skin to sunshine
cradles me to sleep in soft blanket
pass me down her appetite from her mouth

Is true love a myth? I might never know
if my fingernails stay trimmed
Nothing matters, there are probably a bunch of girls
exactly just like you

Sharp, milky, and crescent-like
who wears her hands like dull box cutter
and illnesses like the remaining
forests after fire

Your stomach is real, I can feel it,
More than the womb, through
The first petal I ever adore,

Your rosey skin
In a burn, moonlight-glazed,
Silvery, beautiful.

Your blinking pores, angelic,
No one breathes, I
Know it from the very beginning.

Heavenly and emotionless,
A useless throat,
Ungrateful neck,

Cracking voice and weak whistle,
Childlikely broken.
Your stomach is real, I

Know it from the very beginning,
Dry and sour, clever and hygienic,
Scentless and free,

Beautiful.

I keep thinking i haven't washed my hair
My head seems to not be able to forget the grease
Maybe deep down i just want it to stay
(I washed my hair this morning
In the sink)

I keep thinking i'm doing great
That's what my therapist said too
But sometimes i wish i was dying more visibly
Sometimes i wish i made more signs
Sometimes i wish i hadn't gotten better

I don't want to stop
I want to want to stop
I don't want to stop

What?
I got nothing to show you
I got none to tell you

Remission is a weird state
Everything partial makes me uncomfortable
I just want to cling to whatever i had
Don't ****** away my ghosts
Don't ****** away
They come back anyway
Befriending me again

O, she makes me puke!
Her stomach round as a globe ---
it is mine also.

this is a cry
this is a cry
this is a cry
this is a

parking lot. that is how big this world is. a sad space between the trees, east to a canteen, west to a badminton field. head south, there's a toilet. the way out is in the north.

we are full of cold cars and stranger's sweat. we are full of leaves, branches, fruits that fall anonymously. of raindrops, of muds that stain our clean white shoes. we are full.

come, wind. come and break the trees. come so they can wreck us into scraps.

it is no harm to the living. roots keep them alive. what does that make a human? people are abandoned, fences are mistaken as a protection. the lonely bridge. the raging river. the subject. the unidentified. everything is now an object to the eye

and it wrenches our emotion until we give them all up, of course, until we've got nothing left, of course, until breathing is solved and the lungs unravel

listen
this has been a cry all along

i want to bleed out all the sadness
until my ****** runs out of color
and becomes clear again

i want to scrub myself like a bathroom floor
hard and rough
until all the dirt comes off
so maybe, even just for a few days,
yeah maybe i could shine

or i shouldn't shower
wait for some weeks
won't even ****
i don't want my bathroom get *****
if i have to **** i will **** on my hands
and carefully put it in the trash bin
for my landlady's turkey to eat

how i wish i could just throw away
all these dishes
and not be found out

i want the time to stop so i can rest awhile
and not just procrastinate
i want to really rest
like an unpopular mountain, like an unknown lake
i want it to be very still and silent i can hear my own blood rushing

but what if i have diarrhea
and can't **** so neatly like i always did
what if it's been a week and it won't stop
and it won't even get me skinny

i'm so homesick i order a hainanese rice
i'm so homesick i don't want to not sleep even though it's the finals week
i'm so homesick i want to drop out of school
i'm so homesick everything becomes empty and hurts

i've been collecting empty beer cans because i don't want my landlady to tell my mother that i drink

i want to dry myself in the sun but
i can't
even get out of bed to turn
on the light
don't open the window and take a nap
it's the rainy season

Mince me
Mince me
To small pieces
Small, small, tiny pieces
From toe to head
From toe to head
From ******* toe to head
I need to know the agony
I need to know hell
I need to suffer more, more
Most
So I could write about it
So I could write about it
So I could write about it
And make hearts bleed
And make faces waterfall
And make hearts bleed
And make faces waterfall

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

The first time i touched a girl i didn't know it was supposed to be light and tasteless. it was an earthquake, light just because i was so close to the earth. i remember my own tongue tasted like sea and blue.

The first time i touched a girl we were both 8. she laughed because i was trembling too much. my hands were cold like chilled tea, but she didn't know beneath her thick clothes that it was actually a thing.

The first time i touched a girl it was a girl with naturally red cheeks. my mother used to call her tomato cheeks, and i'd tell my mother how healthy her skin was. as healthy as her healthy hair, dark brown, long and smooth and straight.

It felt different when i couldn't touch a girl. not that i wanted to touch her, but we were 13, and she had a boyfriend, and i wanted a boyfriend too. but her smile was my cure and i kept searching for her teeth in the night sky.

When i was 15 i met a girl and we became good friends. when i touched her it was friendly but i wanted it to grow even more and more intense. i hadn't realized until i saw her bare back, i wanted her, i wanted her so bad i should stop.

But i didn't really stop. i do not stop, i am unable to stop. 11 years from when i first touched a girl i still long for tenderness and soft skin.

xvii.

my dear neurosurgeon
failed to find my eyes,
he only looked
at my mouth, my
left jaw,
whine a little,
and gave me analgesic - i f

orgot what's the na
me - that replaced my f
ace with the mo
on. it's moon face. still

present until this very moment
just because my body wants to
remember. i
maintain my diet like there's
no tomorrow but actually there is &
boy did it
grace my stomach with a

crying gift, an angel's tears,
an angel lives near the volcano
everything turns sour.

i wasn't hurting at that time.

now i am. turning not only
my face to the moon, my whole body
is the moon, even my
fingers are the moon
but they are the crater part so
when i touch a boy he

disappears - when i
touch a girl i disappear.
i've never wanted to be a boy,

only some nights
i am so fragile i become masculine.
it's not that i've never felt
feminine, i do, every time

i am catcalled i do, every
time my father kisses me like a jewel
i do, every time my brother
treats me like a marionette
i do, every time i'm seen as angry i swear i do.

my mother is angry all the time but
that doesn't do anything about
her womanhood - her husband
still sees her as a good, and yes, the eyes
of a man
are like the sun, nothing at all
like mine.
my eyes are the only part of me
that is not the moon, that is pluto.

i've been to so many doctors
i am very sure it's not
the minds nor the medicines.

it's funny
that

my dear neurosurgeon
didn't even graze my skin -
the only time a knife
tore my epidermis open

it was a slim box cutter.

i've been to so many doctors,
i am very sure.

xiv.

The heat is
heavy and a
gold,
though different from wha
t
I learned in high sch
ool.

I stopped sleeping
with the lights
on. I stopped wa
king up to a smooth,
even sleepiness. I
stopped admiring sunrises.

In high school
there were girls and only girls.
An all girls school
wasn't that much
extraordinary. A
lot of
people don't un
de
rstand, bo
ys were not practical un
til
you want u
s pregnant.

I wish we started being extinct,
right here and
now. I wish we
started earlier. I
wish
we
'd start at all.

Back then
I drew a lot.
I wrote some
things I can't
write anymore, nev
er ever
    ever
   ever
  ever
ever
ever

xix. but if i were to die by my own hands (my honest dying note would probably mention my uni life) would he turn a blind eye like he always does or would he erase me as if i was never there? i'll never know because i wont die just because i want to. i'll never know, of course, because i'll live and graduate and i'll be the one who forgets him, not vice versa

the only reason im here is to run away & i failed, so i keep seeking for ways to flee, i keep fighting my own shadow. why would anyone study their soul out just to get into the so called best uni in the country that is far away from their home, i wonder as well. my intention was not to study, i wanted to die. im breathing fine. sometimes i get too excited it's so uncomfortable & when i fall it's a dry and dusty abandoned well, you know that my vision stays in the ground. doesnt the soil look lovely, i wonder as well.

the only reason im here is because i am alive, i dont know why it is so obvious to other people yet it's an epiphany to me. i shouldnt be alive today. i shouldnt have survived 2014, let alone 2015 & 2016. it's almost may and now i start to think how nice it will be to be old and have more space for peace rather than keeping chaos as a pet.

this is embarrassing, sure, but sometimes i think i need to feel embarrassed. do you get what i mean, because i kinda dont. anyway, if this is something i can be proud of, i'll without any doubt brag to my parents and post it all over my social media. ive never liked bragging online, but if it's so good i'll think so hard of why not and still not get any good answer. it's a curse for vain people to get trapped inside a body with low self esteem. (fact)

maybe i made a mistake when i entered this uni. all i could think of was death, i didn't think i would be alive until halfway to graduation. now i dont worry about when i'll be able to die anymore, i just worry about when i'll be able to properly study just like the student i used to be. i just worry if i can graduate on time, i just worry if i can graduate with honor. how naive this kid is, i hope she remembers how she totally ruined her grades last semester. (no i dont mean thats the right pronoun i just go with the flow)

there is no flow, of course. why am i saying these things on a poetry website rather than on my rant blog, i wonder as well. i worry about the future & now all the pictures have me in them. i have many regrets about the past but they are a part of what makes me myself. (certainly not a claim that i have a clear sense of self) as for the present, i dont really like being here. i still feel like it will feel so great to not exist at all. but im breathing in anticipation. is it believable, my looking forward to the future, i wonder as well.

There is nothing more mother than my land;
Where I want to be buried alive--
Red brownish soil is the warmest arms for a hug,
a hug too long I decompose
in calmness too peaceful the angels fall asleep,
God forgets there is hell,
borders erased, all becomes infinitive one,
it's purely true peace.
Choir of devils, a pool of love songs,
honest teeth and bites, truthful,
wonderful as baby's skin and toes.
There is nothing sweeter than the bitter.
The tongue of the ocean to lick the wounds,
flowers too young to bloom,
here we are, too pure to have a spring,
seasons are just too fatty.
Poetry does not end too soon;
Even when goodbye is not said--
These words are in a hurry but they stuck, because
narrow mind is always messy,
and the mess is too scared to speak.

Mostly it's chest pain whenever i
see your words, but today
it's different and fresh and new.

It's the kind of feeling of mild
starvation, softly hurting like a baby
kick from inside your womb,

a baby that you know is not yours.
It's a stomachache like hers, or just binge
eating extremely sour and spicy things

where the road will not stay still,
it races with the cars and traffic lights,
it stumbles when it loses, it curls the

pedestrians up inside it; just another way of
showing the stirred of love and despair,
the paint that closely resembles its pain.

ii.

It was a promise;
Not to leave
before you arrive.

I believed.
You didn't.

It wasn't a longing.
If it was, I could
just **** it in a blink.

I waited 'til late;
You overslept.

My ears caught a group of marching bands playing on a moving train
Circling around, giving, taking breath to that ticking, that flame framed clock above the mirror

They always sound louder when you are not around --which means always
And loudest at 3:17 a.m. when I write you letters I can't ever send

Their rhythm never fit but I never missed even a heartbeat of mine
Because I wish, I wish yours'd one day join

And I thought I wish I were deaf
Just so I could refer those who wish they were deaf as arseholes

(It's been a long time of pretending
That I know about you --at least a thing)

I am always wrong and this poem is genuine

I promised we'd meet
before I died. I didn't
know you could die too.

you, again
my name on the sand
my name, my life, just the same

you, again, the ocean
you be the beach i gave myself to
you be the tides that erase me quite

you, again, my earth-shaker
my alphabets remain nothing
my story crumbled by the wind

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.

The jasmine died when
it tried to walk
past the window.
"Don't let it flow!"

You heard
what the ebony said? Don't.
Just don't. They thought
deeply that a flower
never could be a river.
They regreted it.

Not anymore. Then later
they found Snow White
stabbing The Evil Queen. To death.
Blackened blood. Ach, du.
The apple is just
a metaphor.

The jasmine was a rabbit from the moon.
She used to
make mochi and babysit
the princess, Kaguya.
Now Kaguya is all grown up. All grown up,
just like your country's spacecraft.
(I am not
that honest, but honestly
I am jealous.)

Ich, ich, ich, ich.
I never would understand
the world of
literary.

(Oh, God.)

Do me a favor
and hate me.

let's never leave the bed, not even for a bit
you can stay here forever, you'll be amazed
by how much you can do, horizontally
nothing poetic, only tragedy is expected
here, for a very very long time
that's what we've been longing for, isn't it?
i owe you much, my friend!
just this one more thing, my friend!
could you do it for me? could you do it for us?
could you please
stay
stay in the bed.

******* mom
stop tryna reach me
I'm not talking to ya
I'm not answering
whoever calls
from home
*******
family, each of you knows
just tell 'em the truth
we're falling apart
& it's my fault
or if it hasn't been, it will be
******* mom
I'm not returning any call
'cause if you hear my voice
you'll understand
we were once best company
now strangers in a convenience store

I remember somewhere
in the depth of your lake-like eyes:
fresh ropes, high places, warm walls.

Everything I've tried to recall
from the comfy, tender-looking voice
still floating like clouds below the scorching sun.

I imagine so: you
are more than a metaphor of poetry,
more than a life in your body, you

are a son lost in your own prophecy.
I now know how a mother must feel,
how a mother must feel about the fruit of the womb.

These blue-green petals of your existence
softly wrapping my fingers and sloppy neck;
it is almost as if my skin is precious.

i'm so tired
of being

both mentally and
physically

i'm so tired of having
to
be present
to  be in a place i can't
recognize
to be in  a time i can't
relate to

i suppose my body hurts more than my tolerance

just since when did exist
ing
become so  painful
ly  heavy?

my body falls
even    deeper
my body stinks
even stronger

i swear i
loved                           life
i swear i   lived          life

a life that
is not mine
a life in a      body     i do not
own