he has two faces:  
one faces me and the other faces the mirror
wrapped in a veneer of soft skin
across a chasm of buried memory and the pacific ocean
that i cannot yet traverse

hidden behind a veil of broken glass
transparent enough to let some light in yet opaque at the same time

the shards pierce my fingers
blood spills in the absence of control
and freezes with
a knowing distance that dances around the wrath of time

how do i cross the breach?
i wait
for the turn of time
for the unleashing of emotion
for the healing that must happen

then and only then can i pour the resinized love i have into the cracks
and have it solidify into something permanent

in loving you, every memory that i have of myself has dissolved into nothingness

coffee in the morning is no longer sufficient why

has my head become a globe that can barely balance on its tiny pedestals?

in my solipsistic dreams somehow i can see your silhouette

even in the solace of my slumber you still manage to penetrate my inner most and intimate thoughts

like a shadow
that strays from the light

particles that amass and then leave again

the daisy to my gatsby-esque ideals of romance and hope

shaky visuals brought on by a familiar melody that conjures a memory that has given me stockholm syndrome

you are the captor but i

i am a willing victim

if hannibal lecter could dine on his friends, you can have me as dessert

and it wouldn't matter, for my life

has till this moment, been devoid of the one thing everybody seeks

love, in all its permutations and essence.

you laughed. laughed heartily while we were at your garage getting drunk on happiness. at some point I picked your gasoline up and I began to douse myself with it.
your hands didn't stop me at first. in fact you were amazed that I was even doing that in the first place. after twenty minutes you had a Zippo in your hand and you set me aflame.
I revelled in your fire. I relished it like no other.
after a while you got bored of me. seeing the same old flame burn was way too monotonous for you
yet you said nothing and just watched while I continued pouring your gasoline on my bodice.
I realised that you had stopped lighting me.
I asked why.
there was no reply, only, "I am not worthy of you." in quiet hushed tones.
I missed your fire.
I grabbed your Zippo and set myself alight, but again you only watched and it did not feel the same.
there was no warmth in self-inflicted burns, and your eyes seemed to wander.
here i am, cinders of that one time, and still I wish you would set me alight again.

-x.o.

you have started a fire in me that will never die, but even as I feel it singe my insides, I take it as a reminder of your presence in my life, and I cherish it.
you can set me ablaze with just your eyes; on some days I am a forest fire and others, cinders by your fireplace
people say gravity holds you down, and for me, you are my gravity
sometimes I feel like outer space, vastly unexplored and misunderstood but when you came into my life I became an open book.
you made me feel like I belong.
I was uncharted territory but now I'm on your maps and frankly it has never felt so good to be found.
you are fire and death, gravity and the stars, and despite this, I still love you.

stop all the clocks
i am sick of hearing every tick-tock, chime or screech of a rooster.
stop all the clocks
a piercing scream and a shot in the dark
dead bodies found
no need to remind me of how fragile life is
I spend most of my time craving death
it's a lot like craving your lips but not having them
52 weeks in a year
every time you celebrate your birthday is one more year gone
abyss, swallowing up your existence
evanescent, just like him
every minute passing is a minute inching closer to death
some say death is ascending to heaven but how would you know heaven is paradise?
how would you know that god isn't the devil divided and heaven isn't really a sugar coated hell?
time is but a shadow, shrouding us, controlling us
stop all the clocks, I implore you

i haven't written in forever, and it's not because I don't remember how, but because it pains me to think of you.
you - a spoke on my wheel of life, threatening to break on some days and permanently attached on other days
you - a fire burning, relying on the splinters you tear off from my love
you - evanescent, quaking, waiting for me to change pace
you - a pair of goggles sinking to the bottom of a pool because you are passing out of sight
you - that empty medicine cabinet I open at midnight to find that I've finished every last anti-depressant and the only thing left is my sadness staring me in the face.

the lights are too bright because my eyes are strained from crying into pillows for hours at a time. i do not know if you knew why the door never slams when i'm around but it's because my father taught me to respect everyone, even if they did you wrong. i'm on the losing end for my emotions are spilling out of me and yet i do not have a platform to express them. i may have words, marks on paper that are a means of communication but the words you used against me hurt so much. i wish every night i spent with you wasn't mellow and full of *** for i would kiss you for hours and act as a warm home for all your troubles but i couldn't do that because all you wanted was ***, ***, *** and the pleasure that you got from it drove you madder each time. do you remember when you came home and ****** me, you whispered her name into my ears in between whiskey breaths? i didn't forget and you were too drunk to remember anything but you went back to see her anyway. her name was on your tongue like a back alley piercing and yet you chose to let yourself be trapped in her stone cold arms. while i wait till four in the morning with a safe haven and a warm home, she drew the hallelujah from you, and when you came back, i did not know who you were.

-x.o.

Every so often, you get your heart broken. It's a punch to the stomach, a kick to the knees, a stab in the chest.

Sometimes, you meet this person again. Of course you long to be able to look into their eyes and melt into them like you always have. To lie in their arms would be a heaven almost unimaginable because of the current circumstances, yet you desire it. But has anyone considered the actual feeling of stealing small, secretive, loving, glances at them?

It's looking through a sea of asphyxiation - obviously you are deprived of oxygen underwater - and not being able to reach for them. You are the lone diver, and they are the sinking rocks headed for the ocean's abyss. It's disconcerting, painful and uncomfortable.

You're crying. Why are you crying? Oh. It hurts. Obvious. You are shaking so much you thought you would die young. You have your whole funeral planned in your head. Organs play in the background to honor your demise. The tears flow from your face, leaving hot, burning trails as they did, but the pain of it cannot compare to the one in the pit of your stomach. You wonder when the pain will stop. Wondering alone does not help it.

What you would give to stare into their ocean eyes, play with their hair, crush your lips into theirs.

If only falling out of love were as easy as falling into it.

(seastarred)

Happiness. A 9-letter word. How does one begin to describe the emotion they’ve never really got to know, amongst other things like hurt, confusion and utter heartbreak?

It was by the smile lines on her face, the way her skin glowed and reflected sunbeams when she took the perfect photo of a beautiful landscape.

When she doesn’t have any recollection of her half-burnt, tear-stained journals that still had residue from her last overdose.

When she forgot about how she took a blade to her fragile skin to carve your name into them, and then weep about your leaving afterwards.

She writes about optimism and love again, because she is over everything that had ever ruined her life.

She takes her dog for walks in the park, and notices how every flap of a butterfly going through the air from one flower to another seemed to coincide with the beats of her heart, which beat more consistently and powerfully than ever before.

She notices all the little details she missed before, like how lines of dust moved whenever certain objects were misplaced, or the morning calls of the birds in her neighbor’s bird bath.

She is so much more euphoric than before, so don’t break her again.


(seastarred)

I want to tie a string around every one of your fingers and appendages, and perhaps dangle you over the edge of the galaxy just so you'll know what it was like to experience very real and very pure heartbreak.

I'd grasp onto your soul so hard your being started to disintegrate and the atoms of the space around you gathered to push you into a space-time continuum to follow my voice while I walk you through the void, the darkness I went through when you said that last farewell and didn't consider the prison you'd incarcerated me in.

It was as if you'd trapped my soul into passing showers of rainclouds, and you took them with you as you left. I’d drilled your last lovelorn letters to me into a hole in the walls I put up to protect my raw, aching heart from anymore of the tragedy you have caused me. I don’t know if you’d realized your mistake but you never came back. You were lost in the wind, a novel of sweet nothings flung about by moving air and I never saw you since.


You are nothing more than burnt love letters and apologies I whisper every night unknowingly to the empty darkness beside me.


I like to paint your silhouette onto the trees I hug and imagine your shadow as I sleep under the stars because that gave me back some, if not most, of my sanity for a while. Don't you understand how you keep me alive and soulful and willing to continue living?

I breathe the fresh air hoping to get a whiff of you, floating about in the very wind that took you away.


(seastarred)

Do you want me on the table, my love?

Or shall we have it on the bear skin rug where it’s warm?

Either way, you can hear my hips beckoning to you.

Oh how they crave your bodice around mine, like wrapping paper around a gift. That’s right, you’re my gift after a day of listening to nonsensical chatter.

Do you feel me trembling baby?

That’s right, I’m excited. I am going to make you feel so, so exhilarated, that perhaps you wouldn’t be able to walk after that.

You may not even want to wake up without me by your side.

That’s how I go, and you know you crave me.

Let your lips get to know mine first, let them mingle and explore the depth of each other, while our hands traverse the canvas we have before us.

Our legs won’t be able to resist tangling themselves, and once we untangle them, the fun begins.

Fill the hollow between my legs, and take me to a heaven I’ve never known.

Make me scream your name to the skies and you shall scream mine.

Don’t whisper; I like it rough, where pulling and perhaps recreational scolding is involved.

Tame me with a whip, or a riding crop, whichever you prefer.

I won’t bite, unless you want me to.

Just remember that the next morning will be as enjoyable as the night before.



(seastarred)

not even biology can describe this searing pain that’s ripping through my chest and sending my system into overdrive, where the tears are inexplicably rolling down my cheeks and leaving blood-stained trails as they go.

the feeling that comes with watching another day go by and YOU ARE STILL NOT MINE is a rather unpleasant one, and i always fear the long hours of wailing and clawing at my skin which usually comes after.

i can’t tell you how many times i’ve pulled at my knee socks, looking for the major vein in my legs that once severed, would allow me to escape this hell that i am experiencing. not even the unnecessary shedding of my own blood is enough to stop the pain of this feeling, that you don’t see me as how i see you.

can’t you tell that i wanna be yours?

-x.o

That 2 am chest-clutching, bowled over with eyes so swollen you couldn’t see 2 feet in front of you?
That’s not a broken heart.

The feeling like you’re gonna throw up, and your stomach can’t seem to digest anything?
That’s not a broken heart.

“I still miss you.” texts or calling them a thousand times?
That’s not a broken heart.

What’s a broken heart?
Feeling NOTHING. Absolutely nothing, no emotions no anger no pain. Everything seems fine, but a part of you knows it is not, and you can’t even force yourself to be hurt or feel some sort of hurt. Nothing happened, you think, but something happened, you think again. Why aren’t I feeling anything? WHY? Your mind screams a thousand questions and you don’t know how to answer them. You’re mentally exhausted, and you can’t even breathe properly anymore. Even opening your eyes is a chore. Yet you feel numb. So numb it hurts. You don’t cut because that pain isn’t the same as the one you want to feel. Physical pain is miles and miles away from the pain of losing someone you love and care for very much.

Then your brain starts to shut down, and thinking is no longer possible. You lay in a fetal position for what felt like an eternity while the rain poured outside and all you could think is, “The rain is crying for me.” You don’t move a muscle, in fact you can’t even move a muscle and the air was toxic. You hear lightning and thunder, and struggle to think of all the happy moments you had before but nothing comes to mind and you give up. You lie there until you fall into a deep slumber.

Sleep. It’s a beautiful thing to be able to sleep, because in dreams you create a world that’s entirely your own and no one else’s.  A pretty lake set against the background of mountains far away and a cerulean blue sky that matches his eyes. Oh. His eyes. The perfect world you dreamed suddenly became a nightmarish wasteland. The sky was black as night and life had faded from the world. You were trapped in yourself, running from yourself and nothing else could be done.

Screams. You sit up in a shock, questioning the universe about what happened, and then you feel it again. The numbness, the emptiness.

The cycle repeats and every day you feel that way is a torture.

-x.o.

Did you notice me standing on the sidewalk a little ways from the both of you? I don't know if it was a dream but I remember slicing a part of my arm to let my crimson blood drip onto the ground to mix with precipitation and flow into the sewers to feel something, to feel confirmation that it was only a dream. I felt the pain, saw the blood and still you were there, intertwined around her like ribbon around a gift. I think of the times when you showed up right outside my door, looking desperate and deprived, and I still catered to your every need even though a little voice in my head screamed STOP HE'S USING YOU as it cut into my nerves and shook my conscience. Yet I broke all the rules for you, committing modern day badass-ery. And even now I question you on whether you would break your clock and volunteer time you didn't have for me. You wouldn't, I think, you didn't even speak to me and you answer awkwardly, like snakes were choking you and constricting your windpipe and as if acid were burning your larynx to the point of muting you when I did. I stopped questioning you and let you be for a very long while even though the little voice protested that I should think for myself. You seeing me started becoming a privilege because you only showed up once in a while to lock lips and embrace me. I don't remember a single day where all we did was just get ice-creams and chill somewhere with the company of only each other.

I was used and boy is it emphasized as you stand a little ways from me, wrapped around her.

I see you kissing her like how you kissed me, putting your arms around her like how you did me. But will she ever know how the love I had for you engulfed you in a dark shadow, stretching to the galaxies beyond and appealing to the moon for it's blessing? I knew, from that moment on, that loving you is mistake I will never make again. Even if I'm breaking down at 2 am suppers, consuming yogurt by the tub and pulling all of my hair out because of that one kiss I saw you share with someone I trusted, I will never tear my heart in two ever again just to share a piece with you for I know you won't care for it. Don't burn me with the memories we had since I have set them on fire the moment I saw you and her.

But I don't have the strength to keep myself standing upright as I stand a little ways from you wrapped around her, and I crumble to the ground, shattering into ash...

(lunarlullubies)

The year twenty fourteen.

A year has passed, deeds have been done and new challenges surface.  What does this year hold for any of us? Will it brush the dust off our bones? Awaken our lifeless souls? Or instead set our bodies on fire in revenge?  

Resolutions will be passed, but will anyone actually fulfill them? They'd be hanging from a thorn in their minds, just waiting to die, while the people decide what to do with them.  

Lyrics to future hits will be written and left helpless in recording studios while producers muse over each and every verse, critiquing the words, and possibly changing destinies.

New Year decorations will be taken down and Christmas has long gone. Winter has turned into Spring and what's next?

I'd just be watching the leaves of trees take the form of multiple personalities and colors, dying every time they have to change. I'd watch them fall off branches to pile up on the ground, only to be raked into another pile to be taken far, far away from home. I wish I could be like them, on to places beyond.

My bones have not grown stronger, and "New Year New Me" is complete ******* because nobody can be changed by a mere thought. Careful consideration, time and other things must come into play. I still feel weak at the knees with every sight of you, and my head and heart don't agree with everything either wants to do.

The stars and the Moon speak to me, and tell me about all their stories from the past year. They tell me to catch falling stars should I see any, and to count the stars instead of counting money, which has no value on its own.

But how can I tell anyone at all that I'd rather be in the universe of my own mind than anywhere on earth where civilization can be found? Will they take offense? I don't know. All they ever do is tweet about how school is going on, and how they love their friends. I've forgotten how to speak the same language as them and I know I'm an alien now.

I do not belong on this earth.

As of 2014.*


-x.o.

i. The rumble of thunder signified a storm.

ii. The rain fell like my soul onto the withering ground.

iii. I watched as every drop fell like eternity.

iv. A flash of light, a deep, dull sound and the crash of air.

v. Her heart beat in unison with the happenings of the sky.

vi. Gravity pulled the rain right out of the sky, onto the world below.



(lunarlullubies)

A whip across multiple hearts

A kick to the knees

A bullet to the head

A knife upon tongues

An end to all pain would be to look for Death himself



(lunarlullubies)

I feel jealous* of the shirt that clings ever so tightly to you because it does a better job than my weak arms ever did.

I feel jealous of the belt that holds your pants up in immeasurable strength that I could never defeat.

I feel jealous of the watch you look at every other minute because I know you will never look at me like that ever again.

I am jealous of the articles you call your own, because I will never be.



(lunarlullubies)

All is lost for I still look to you for comfort even if it's just taking a mental picture of you. I remember everything - from the scent of your skin to the way you walk. I tried so hard, to mask the pain, to forget the memories, but all is in vain. How can one forget something that was a part of her mind, covered in tissue and broken memory? I've torn my head and heart in two just so I could keep you in my thoughts. I've ignored advice and left tensions in conversations just so I could still be yours. But you've convinced me time and time again that all I've done has gone to waste. You've gone ahead to plant your lips on another so ask me why I still care. It might be the flowers you grew in my heart or the wind that blew me away, but i knew from the first glance I would protect your heart if it were mine to keep. But you took your heart back and gave it to another, leaving my arms empty and mind delirious.

I was young and foolish, but I'd love you despite what you've done.



(lunarlullubies)

It’s New Year’s Eve.*

Cue the colorful ads all around the neighborhood, on park benches and random building pillars, and the commercials of that big city countdown in the middle of town. Cold winter snowflakes still on palms of those trudging through the layers of snow on the streets. The day stretches into the night as half the city prepares for that special midnight moment. Lipsticks applied and makeup spilled, dresses snatched from the stores and shoes grabbed from their shelves. As the hour draws near, everyone is gathered, waiting for the party to begin.

Lights are turned up, adrenaline is rushed, people are hyped and lives are being restored in their dead bodies.

Cheerful voices of the hosts fill the air, and a band plays in the background. Instruments contributing to the life of the party.

11:59 P.M.

Timers are set and cameras are ready.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2…

1!

Sky flowers cover the stars in a burst of sparks, and the sound of cameras snapping photos can be heard among the crying and screaming.

Lips are locked, embraces are warm and photos are Instragram-ed.

The night is young and hearts are joyful.

Such is the beauty of this one night.



(lunarlullubies)

Why do I envision you on top of me?

Why do I crave the feelings we might both feel?

I see you in the dark lit club we frequent and I know.

I know you want me, and I made it obvious that I want you too.

Now follow me.

Follow my voice.

Are you ready?

Bodies touching, hearts beating, lips pressed against each other.

Arms wrapped, legs intertwined.

My skin interlaced with yours.

Warm breaths on your neck, irresistible whispers in your ear.

Count the thrusts with me.

One, your body convulses

Two, you gasp

Three, you call my name

Four, you grip the sheets

Five, you shout something inaudible to the stars above

Six, you whisper a word of gratitude

Seven, you thank me again with your lips on mine.



(lunarlullubies)

Amid the millions of snow drops falling from the sky, she awaits reaching home to be with her family on Christmas Day. Her thick coat of fur kept her warm, and her excited beating heart comfy. She turns the key and swings the door open, letting a draft in. "I'm home!" She shouts and happy screams erupt, along with the pitter patter of feet as people run towards the door. She is greeted by her family, with many hugs and kisses. She hangs the coat up and joins them at the dinner table.

A candle-lit feast with delicious roasted turkey and meat of all kinds. She notes that there are at least three different kinds of cheese and an assortment of vegetables and also colorful desserts. The atmosphere was lovely, and laughter filled the air. She ate slowly, relishing every flavor of goodness she tasted. The plates that adorned the table were soon empty in a matter of hours and bellies were filled.

She sat in front of the tree, with beautiful lights in neon colors, and snow angels on every other branch. This was true happiness to her. Shiny baubles and adorable Santas also put a smile on her face. But, the star. Oh that star. It reigned supreme at the crown of the tree, brighter than any other star she'd seen in the night sky. It fueled the Christmas spirit in the house, banishing all negativity. She looked at the foot of the tree, and there they were, carefully wrapped in the prettiest wrapping paper one could ever find. There were designs of the world map, and some others of animals and mythical creatures. They made presents extra special. The family soon joined her, delicately removing the wrappers of their presents. Each sent shivers down spines and initiated a mass hugging session and gratitude. She watched as everyone thanked each other for their lovely gifts, before heading back to the hall to continue with celebrations. She realized that she hasn't yet opened hers and picked up the remaining presents with her name in cursive. Slowly opening each of them, she folded the wrapping papers neatly in a pile beside her. Every one of the presents was specially chosen for her: a book on the universe, a unicorn statue, a top adorned with tiny suns and the most precious of all, a book of photos of the ocean. She loved them, and went to embrace her family members again and thanked them dearly for the presents.

She loved Christmas, but it was ending soon. She said a silent prayer, thanked the stars in her heart and started taking the decorations down one by one.

(lunarlullubies)

“Cold snowflakes upon my arm

the winter shine peeking through a crack in the blinds

a breeze of ice engulfing the room through a window left ajar

a land covered in a shiny white blanket.”

Winter has come. Cue the thick padded coats and the parkas of every color of the rainbow! Behold the sleds and skis and the beautiful Siberian huskies who pull them. Await the closing of schools and the temperature drops, keeping people in and making children everywhere euphoric as ever. The time has come for skating upon rivers of ice, and joyous dinners in warm wooly sweaters as families gather around to indulge in the tastiest of food. Fireplaces shall again be lit in all households of old, and stockings hung up early in preparation for Christmas. Happy smiles all around, engaging in snowball fights and the building of snowmen.

Ah but winter is as winter does. As numbers reach the negatives, heaters are turned up to the warmest possible, insulating the beings in a home and using electricity. What about those without a home? Those who are confined to the streets of the city, waiting for the cold to eat their bodies up and leave them in a state of rigidity? They are left to waste. Left to succumb to the bitterness of winter, with no sustenance whatsoever or any form of water to soothe their burning throats. The cold will conceal them in a cover of white death, a prison of snow. And in the early mornings of every winter-filled day, a machine is sent out to collect the bodies of those who have been imprisoned by the winter. The one operating the machine weeps silent tears for these ice prisoners before bringing their poor souls elsewhere.

Winter is two-faced, and she is both beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night.

(lunarlullubies)

They didn't know that when they glanced at her when she walks by in the halls, she feels uncomfortable. She feels judged. She is so much stronger than that, but she has been broken. A lovelorn, erring, gentle girl. She makes mistakes just like you or I. Tangled, once happy relations with guys who promised to love her wholeheartedly.

i. her first love. Arguments, disagreements broke them. However, love eventually found them, and brought these equally sad souls together again.

ii. she met him at the start of 7th grade. He had eyes for her best friend, and eventually set his sights on her. 9 months they loved each other, overcoming obstacles and setbacks. But... she stopped her loyalty to him, and pledged her allegiance to another.

iii. their love started on a rocky base, and it will continue as so. They loved each other for a few months, before again she pledged her allegiance to another, stopping loyalty again. This time, mostly because she discovered that she has pledged her allegiance to the wrong boy.

iv. her first love. Loyalty is still very much there, but only time can tell if their love for each other is as true as how the waves cherish the shores they kiss every day.

She found solace in the spilling of her own blood from her wrecked body, onto the grounds of her sorrow. Said it made her feel alive, to see the silver of blades win death matches against her flesh, to see the crimson of her body's fluids flow out like a red fountain.

She continued like this for a few hundred days, mindlessly mutilating herself. And then one day she decided to stop. Some may say, the return of her to her first love has done her well, for they both had death wishes. She only stopped viciously running blades over her skin to save this boy, the one she's in love with. Suicide pacts were on their minds, and days were counting down to their impending demise. She knew she had to do something. So she put on fake smiles, took on the form of joyful and went out into the world, channeling new feelings of optimism and the advocation of preserving oneself. She found it comforting to help others with conditions she has experienced before and is always sure to tell them all the reasons why what they're doing is wrong.

A time in her life was when she found (beautiful) pictures online of those a size (or many sizes) smaller than the average body. She wanted to be like them, and thought that skipping meals would help her attain her goal. She craved the image of herself being a few sizes smaller, and having specific parts of her body toned down. She didn't realize that this too, would **** her if she continued it over a long period of time. But every time she peered into the mirror, all she would see is a mess of weird, bulging flesh and bulk in all the wrong places. This action of course, stopped when she had the epiphany that whatever she thought was going to help her, never will.

Inside this torn and shattered soul of a person, is a nice and gentle girl who would be a great friend to anyone. She's still the same inside, only her physical and current mentality fools all.



-x.o

She has been questioning herself. Questioning her existence, and her position in life? Will she end her poems with (x.o.) or (lunarlullubies)? Why does this darkness thrive within her? How does it manage to feed off her soul so she’ll contract it’s disease and become a permanent part of her? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. All she knows is that somewhere in her mind, there exists an intelligence that no one has ever embraced. She doesn’t use all of it all the time because it would offend some people.

She knows how to love a man properly. She knows how to remember every single detail about him, how his eyes sparkle whenever he’s contented and how they look deep into her when they’re together. She knows. She’ll remember his birthday, their anniversary, his number, his coffee order and even his address because she loves him, and would do anything for him. She would be the one to buy flowers, the one to ask him out on dates. She would be the one.

She looks into the mirror everyday and asks why she can’t be of another race, why she can’t have auburn curls or green eyes, or blue eyes. She wonders why she can’t get rid of her love handles, or her baby fat. She’s the girl in school who embraces many. Who looks up to many. When will anyone look up to her? When will people start asking her where she got her clothes from? Or her inspiration?

She has never been on the logical side, but what she doesn’t have in logic, she makes up for in creativity. Writing poetry, singing, playing instruments and reading have always been her greatest enjoyments. She doesn’t like challenging problem sums or figuring out what the square root of pi is. She wants to look to the other side of life where the complication is low. What she doesn’t understand, is why the education system chooses to make her study mathematics which she clearly doesn’t ace it. She doesn’t understand why her math teacher wouldn’t help her but instead indirectly call her a hopeless case and a sad sob story of great words with high levels of stupidity and ignorance. She doesn’t know. She knows that studying mathematics could have some kind of good impact on her, but she just doesn’t get it. Every problem is twisted like a good mystery. She likes mysteries but can never seem to solve them on her own because she doesn’t have good deduction skills. Her dad told her, “Good deduction skills come from learning mathematics.” and she has been trying to learn. Trying to understand the intricacies of it. She has great ambitions, but the system and the way of society doesn’t let her fulfil those ambitions. They make her value money over happiness, which is something she doesn’t like, but has to believe in. She thinks it’s flawed, and argues about topics like it. She is the president of one of the most underrated clubs in school – the debate club. Some students don’t even know that their school has a debate club. She cries about how things don’t go well. She wants them to improve.

She knows. She knows that someday everything will all change because everyone will grow up one day.



(lunarlullubies)

Golden brown, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie staring at you from the dinner table. We give gratitude to everything good that has ever happened to us. The date, an indecisive number, moves back one every year until 22, then it moves up to 28 again. The family gathers round and say their thank yous before the glorious feast and parades are heard out on the streets. Everyone is hugged and kissed before the beautiful day after Thanksgiving begins and people can flock the stores they love.

(lunarlullubies)

i. The calm of the sea calls out to me like a sweet bitter song written on vengeful manuscripts left in a barren recording studio. I lay on the vessel, listening as the sea faeries whisper my name from the sea foam, asking me to stop the vessel I am on. I ignored them, for they are faeries which are clearly a figment of my imagination. The waves grew angry, and the sky overcast. Grey clouds surrounded us and lightning started to strike. A deep hollow sound erupted from somewhere above, and I knew that the faeries were infuriated. I rushed to the captain, a handsome, clean shaven man and begged him to stop the Costa Victoria. At seeing my pathetic self, he agreed to stop it and shut down all engines. The sea grew calm again, but we were stuck in the sea, the captain and I. The crew members were virtually nonexistent, as were the other passengers on board. They, of course, were merely evidence of an earthen world, and with the faeries’ storm, they had ceased to continue existing. I set off for the lifeboats with the captain in hand, a smile plastered on my usually dead face.



ii. Treacherous were the waves that stared back at me when my eyes took a detour out of the balcony. They were harsh and unforgiving, roaring and   rumbling beneath me. They didn’t disappear, but instead swallowed the night whole with an unprecedented strength.



iii. The sea was an endless expanse of black and white anguish, and in the horizon, an unknowing danger loomed, threatening to swallow us up whole if we didn’t continue our speed of 22 knots.



(lunarlullubies)

Silence me with handwritten notes on small books and blank paper and bury them with me if I should die tonight. My soul will take them to the nether regions where they will be preserved. But if I should lose them, find them and get them back to me.
For they are as precious as the jewels of the earth, and as beautiful as the complexities of your mind. Now I rather I never wrote them for I might still be breathing the breaths I barely ever did.
So watch me as my dying soul breaks my fragile bodice and sends it to the hell where you are not present.

(lunarlullubies & forsakengirlhue)

I always told myself to not do something that ****** one’s conscience.

Don’t tear the leaves or flowers from their roots. Do you not hear their screams of white noise and agony? Do you not see their blood drip onto the forest floor as you cared not for them but for your own selfish pleasures, to have their beauty in your hand?

Don’t listen to the voices that resonate off the walls. Do you not understand how that will satiate the undying hunger in the voids of your mind? Do you not know how it will churn your insides and burn the base of your soul?

Don’t look for the things you have lost. Do you not wonder why they would go missing in the first place? Do you not know that the wolves in the base of your spine have been unleashed?

Don’t stare at the beings in the universe around you. Do you not realize the trouble that would put you in? Do you not know that a single misadventure of the eyes will often lead to shiny blades with long handles in your torso?

Don’t overthink at night. Do you not know that the spirits in your atmosphere will steal your thoughts and add nightmares to them so you’ll have bad dreams? Do you not keep your thoughts in golden cages under massive padlocks and curvy keys?



(lunarlullubies)

I was a tiny fragment of darkness, struggling to find my way in the light. I was evolving, and metamorphozing every minute. My particles broke up into smaller particles and soon I was to become a mere speck of nothing, in this universe of light.

I couldn’t find my way. I was lost.

It concealed me in a shadow of pain. I could feel as it consumed me bit by bit.

Pain, I didn’t know what it was, except that it left me in distress and ice cold tears.

The light seemed to fade.

The pain disappeared, and the mere speck of nothing that I was transcended into the darkness where I really belong.


(lunarlullubies)

I gazed upon her solemn eyes as I analyzed the windows to her soul - a blank and dead world that has seen too much hurt and pain. Her iris - they came in a set of two, were of a chocolate shade, like milk chocolate. Bloodshot were they, and also lifeless. They were her eyes. Her visuals. Her tools of analysis.

-x.o.

He has those deep eyes of a chocolate hue, which almost always show malaise even when he felt spirited and free. Even when he was getting some. Those endearing windows of his soul hide the purest and loveliest embodiment of beauty ever seen. An air of flowers hang around him every day. The natural scent of his very skin. The look he gives ensures you of possible commitment and also possible attraction from other girls. A face so angelic, it makes one want to kiss him. And when he did kiss you, it was a feeling of ultimate comfort and happiness. If humans weren't weak, one wouldn't stop pressing her lips against his. As he wraps his arms around you, you feel as though it isn't the earth's gravity holding you down anymore. You're just floating, in his arms amidst time and space, like you didn't have a care in the world. His shoulder, a perfect piece of paradise which offers a safe haven and solace in the best way imaginable. The way he whispers, "I love you." Into your ears.
Pleasure, through and through.

-x.o

Hung like broken promises on a solemn shelf, it was bare enough for anyone to see, how plain her pain was.

How tolerant she was of her hurt, that no one knew it existed.

As it wrecked her senses, and gave her delusional thoughts, all of which a tiny part of her mind knew wasn’t natural.

She strode on, ignoring everything she felt, dismissing them as utter nonsense and tricks of the mind.

She became numb to them.

She stopped questioning them.

The dark stopped frightening her.

Little did she know that it was killing her slowly.

Blocking a feeling only made it’s psychological impact on her worse, and made her condition deteriorate.

She’s withering from within, and her soul is crumbling unbeknownst to her.

The smallish, ignorant part of her mind is trying to comprehend the situation at hand, but it isn’t processing, because she doesn’t want to bother about it.

Thus, her life is fading away from her.

Only when she reaches an epiphany will she realize what’s internally happening to her.

But unfortunately, all is lost.

-x.o

holed up in a little cottage

she questions her existence

and watched as the wind blew her life away

and took it to the lands beyond far-seeing eyes

deep inside the dark devil’s home where it resided in a glass jar.

her limp body cringed as it writhed in pain from sinew to sinew; crevasse to crevasse and nerve to nerve

she asked, “why?” again as she felt sensations of an unfamiliar sort before falling slumber to the subtle tricks of her mind

and awoke to the screams of her soul as it was ripped from her bodice in strange, unnatural ways

she could only look on as the devil stole it for his own cruel pleasure

and as her body faded into the colors of hell

and burned with the fires that never die.

(lunarlullubies)

call upon me like a sweet, bitter scent

with lovely tingles in every word you speak

the softest lips that i could ever seek,

right in the belly of the beast.



(lunarlullubies)

She was interested in the world and its history,

even those from way before the age of men.

She wondered about dragons and wizards and magical things like unicorns.

She was never really interested in the logical explanations of mathematical equations and the language of communism;

she only craved learning about history.

Indiana Jones was and still is her inspiration and idol,

leaving her in awe with his knowledge.

She could never express herself in the light strokes of paintbrushes,

but could only write – poems and stories, and beautiful adoxography adorned her notes and paper

She even filled her wall with them.



(lunarlullubies)

Stalking silently, the predator watches in the deep.
Noticing your every move
Craving your every scent
The predator knows your fear.
He feels it in the air like a virus.
You can’t evade him.



(lunarlullubies)

Never have I seen such a fine immaculate thing such as yourself.
With impeccable features on every part of you.
Intricate hairlines with the same latitude as Montego Bay.
Wavy curls that go like the Pacific Ocean.
Soft and tiny hands with moisture abound that make my skin tingle at your touch.
Your scent – lingers around you like a fresh rose: thorn-free and beautiful. It intoxicates me and exhilarates my senses, refreshing my mind and bringing me into overdrive.
This is how you are.

(lunarlullubies)