I should write
otherwise
i will miss the beauty of life
that walks past
just in the glimpse of an eye

I should write
for the wet street after the rain,
and the peace it makes;
The music in the background that plays,
in my rest after a long day.

I should write
dance with my pen
lost under my conscious time
incapricious smile
like a man after shots of wine

I should write
otherwise
with what else should i live this life?

God wants you to be a poet
so you can reclaim your soul
what was stolen by
the empty world

God makes your life a poetry
so you will tear apart the rigidity
of the time, of the system
worldly desires had consumed
beautiful souls of the children

God saves you with your pen and ink
for you to rewrite the history
of what was killed by the fury
from whoever call themselves 'giant'
the almighty
when they only lasted no longer than
'ninety years'

God is a poet
and so you are

Throw them a stick to a million miles
they'll chase it, like some treasure hunt
weary bones caught the storm
they'll pray for whatever's worst

A man wants to live his life carelessly
but once the wrong step come up
he dies painfully
sometime what's seem weak
might have you saved
from anything cruel

Long time to wait
some ******* fate
unplanned disaster
i'll wait for him
for everything
i'll make him happy

'cause I love him

Here comes the weather
who runs through me
slips among my veins
dandelion destroyer
time breaker

i felt it better
when  i stood somewhere else
shiver on the tip of my ears
kisses from the wind

the weather
what can it means
so long to not to be seen
lost songs of what could have been

You look so confused 
When I said something to you
Something never before
River of tears on your face
Slowly blowing me away

For there are times in my life
Where to be with you is one part
And another part is for myself 
When I used to go
Every time your words are too hard
To understand or to swallow 

I still remember 
How your cheeks turned red
The moment I gave you my heart
I wished you to keep it safe
Not to let it be blown by the cruel fate.

But you look so confused 
And that's why I love you

this is an orchestra
of a cliche comedy
or some rhytmic tragedy
never clear to be seen
fiendly hard for me

i see fairy dusts
spiralling in the blaze
i find Atlas trying hard
to hold the time for me
albeit
all of this inanities

this is a play
in which with drugs i've played
i've smiled and i've said
the very sweet lines
from the script of life
yet the sweat and tears left unpaid

i burn my calendar
years of years of falling
losing myself
cursing yourself
tearing what was written by my hand

but im still hoping for the best
even in my golden grass
im still trying everything
to get you thinking of me

and i still talk to you
in my wildest dreams at night
i pray for your man in your bed
all of my best poetries
i sent down as your lullabies

one day
when i'm dying
would you pay me a visit?