I find myself pressing my pen onto the paper so hard,
as if to make sure
the ink will never be erased,
the pain will never be forgotten,
this feeling will never fade.
My hand hurts, but I don't stop.
Now every word feels like redemption,
but every sentence
is an act of rebellion.
I can't tell whether I can feel
or I'm numb anymore,
but the scratches I make on this notebook seem real.
They seem permanent,
even if the beating in my chest isn't.
My breath might be polluted,
my blood might be poisoned,
my love might be molding,
but my words,
they're always true.
And that's how I know I'm alive.

Patience is a virtue,
they tell me,
only so that I won’t dare expect more
than what has been given to me,
should my heart shudder
with every desire I deepen into oblivion.
I vowed to shed my tears in silence,
not to disturb the sublime harmony of things,
not to listen to the deadly screams
that are bellowing me to them.
Our world is running late.
Our world promised us that which can’t be obtained,
that which lies inside each and every person
who finds their chest pounding
to the same rhythm
stars are born with.

Anticipation;
a drop of hope and a pair of arms lifted to the sky-
there is nothing more.

Hello, beautiful autumn.
You're spilling all over the ground,
in shades of agony,
in shapes of past lives.
I wish I could hold you together, autumn,
but you're slipping through my fingers,
in drops and shadows.
The sky seems to be mourning
the loss of a year,
and clouds are turning and rolling,
restless and thick,
blocking us in.
Rain wishes to become crystals
of magnificent beauty
that is so short lasting,
it captivates with its innocent fragility.
I'm waiting to be covered by snow,
dear autumn,
for I'm numb and nothing feels warm anymore.
So I think you should go.

Once, I might’ve burnt down my own throne,
disgusted by the weeds that climbed around it;
I might’ve kissed my crown lovingly,
might’ve painted it with blood
before burying it with the rest of my thorns.

A kingdom needs its queen.
This queen needs herself back.

I dust off my cloak.
Where do souls go to rest?
Where do you return the body you borrowed?

The doors slide open-
away I go.

Whether or not I shall be forgotten
is of no importance to me,
but I want my words
to conquer the realms of time
and forever live on someone's lips
or through someone's thoughts.
I hope to enforce them with
everlasting light,
so they can serve as a beacon
in other's benighted worlds.

I must be benighted,
for nothing engulfs me
quite like the night sky.
I must be a cosmic creature,
for nothing empowers me
quite like the sight of stars.
I must be out of this world,
for nothing feels familiar
quite like the moon.

I resemble the moon only when it's ******,
when it turns the night into
something else altogether,
an ode to the fallen stars.
I do not have the light it usually gives out,
so I sink into darkness ,
until my blood can drip again.

I am losing myself into your eyes,
as if I'm lying in the meadow
and falling inside of the sky.
Gravity has no control over me anymore,
not since your touch freed me
from the chains that were holding me down,
and now I'm either flying
or drowning,
but what does it matter
when the only color I see is blue?
Reality has never felt this good.

There was nothing more-
nothing more than that benighted sound,
nothing more than the kiss of lady loneliness
in moments you felt
you were the only one left alive.
There would be nothing more-
never to feel the freedom
of a reckless heart beating
in a chest that isn’t decomposing ,
breath by breath.

We would’ve been more,
had we known how to be.
We would’ve been more,
had we been allowed
to demand what is ours.

There was nothing more
than your own fate smothering you,
breath by breath.

I tried my best to breathe in words,
to cry out ink,
to float like paper.
I spilled my blood
for a bit of passion,
for a bit of essence.
All I've done is rip out pages,
drain my soul
and bring about ghosts.
Perhaps I've lost my calling.
I might've lost it all.

I remember you told me
I was like a lit candle -
Warm and soothing,
But dangerous,
When left unattended.
If I had known you’d leave,
I would’ve burned down
The house we built so
Carefully.
But when you slammed the door shut
That last time,
You put out my flame.

There’s never been much to hold on to,
much to care about.
Like a stray dog,
you’ve wandered through life
with glassy eyes and no expectations.
Now you dare dream,
you dare believe
and hope all burdens will be lifted.
You turn your eyes to the sky,
like you might once again fly,
like you were never banished,
like you never fell.

But here you are,
alone on christmas,
singing to yourself
not carols,
but songs of mourning.
No words,
only desperate cries.

The savior never meant to save you.

I've made a point of making the difference
between being in love with someone
and loving them.
Being in love is eating strawberry ice-cream
or holding hands on a walk in the park.
It is the smell of summer,
it is the touch of the sea breeze,
it is waking up from a sweet dream.
But loving,
loving is rainy days spent in between bed sheets,
is it the immaculate silence
you can only share with a heart that beats to the same rhythm as yours,
it is the sound of thunder.
So when you tell me you love me,
I almost want to believe it,
but I look into your eyes and understand
you have no idea what you're talking about.
You're confusing it with fascination, darling,
you're confusing it with curiosity.
You're taking the street lights for stars.
You're taking the depth of the ocean
for familiar territory.
Your desire to figure me out,
to put me together like a puzzle
and the moonlight we shared
had nothing to do with love.

We are creatures born from fog,
each of us emerging from musty pasts,
doing our best to hide them,
and breathe in mystery,
and breathe out sin.
We make our way through smoke,
never asking what our path is,
but floating in a daze,
to a destination unknown.
There is no light at the end of this tunnel,
there is no clean air.
Our souls have become shadows;
you can see them lurking
from behind symbols of misery.
We are the people of darkness,
we are the ones you fear,
we steal dreams
and bring about nightmares.
We share our home with death itself,
in its purest form.

It's butterflies in my stomach:
A chaos of wings fluttering.
They seems harmless,
Until they reach the heart
And weaken its flesh,
Making a nest out of it.
They're not butterflies
Anymore.
They're arrows
With poisoned tips,
Thrown by a Cupid
With a demon's wings.

I am still just a shadow.
I am still just star dust.
I am still part of a Universe I never quite knew
but I'm homesick for.
I bleed only to pull the stars out by their edges.
I close my eyes only to let the shine rest.
I look up only to remind myself where I came from.
And when you find my skin
between sheets and raw feelings scattered about
you'll flinch from the coldness.
And you won't know
what I hold inside
and that will be your curse.

Crawl beneath my shadow,
and I'll crawl under yours;
two lost souls with wings
that once flew too high, too close.
Our feathers burnt to ashes,
our bodies hit the ground,
now we're cursed and banished,
now each other's all we have.

Should I dare
Should I dare
Should I dare break through,
shatter glass
fall apart
awake brand new?

Should I risk
Should I risk
Should I give my soul,
carelessly
hopefully
show my all?

Should I dare
Should I risk
I shall fall.
Should I not,
**** my soul,
don't let it crawl.

There's death in the air tonight,
and it's coming to take you, thick like smoke
that is leaking from the rusty faucet
of laughing ghosts,
who have known it all too well,
who can feel if flowing through their veins,
tingling like a swarm of flies,
taking over where blood once was.
Take a deep breath
and let it out,
don't allow it to touch your lungs
or you might find yourself screaming,
tearing your skin apart,
only to maybe be able to take them out.
The night has called them from below,
and now you hear death whispering ,
whispering,
embracing you with their angel-like wings.
You thought you'd run,
but you don't want to.
And the coldness suddenly feels like home.

I'm counting down to madness,
I'm counting down to being still,
I'm collecting drops of sadness;
they crawl within
and make me ill.

I'm living on a prayer,
having never known God,
I'm reaching out for heaven,
when burning fire's all I've had.

So I caress my pitch black wings,
patiently gazing at the sky,
while being poked with sticks and twigs
attached to hands of people
that think demons shall never fly.

My mind- an empty clutter

Trying to put words on paper,

Words that have no meaning,

Words that don’t rest for a second.

It’s not the same

Since the feeling’s gone,

But my heart still stings

Of lust.

For I am cursed to always want

That which I can’t have.

In another land, I could’ve been soft;
I could’ve braided flowers in my hair
and sung lullabies at dusk.
In another land,
I could’ve been mellow,
sweet like a first kiss
and loved by the sun,
blushing from his touch.

Here’s to the girl I could’ve been;
here’s to the nights I wish I were her.

Let the wine spill over the mud,
let us pretend it isn’t blood,
let us pretend we haven’t swallowed the poison
that made our insides rot with desire
for the sky,
perhaps just to see how low we can fall.

In this land I am courageous,
covered in star dust that makes my eyes water.
In this land I hold the bitterness inside,
until it’s boiling.

Let me die a legend,
let me die lost in the land that made me who I am.

I could’ve been soft.
Instead, I am rage.

You have no idea what goes on in my mind:
thousands of flying insects,
buzzing,
biting at my brain,
spreading darkness,
and dots and dots and dots
of agony.
I'm spotted and I'm haunted
by sounds of the world below.
Madness turns me into pieces,
it eat me out alive,
it makes me bow my head down
on dirt,
and the dirt starts climbing up.

A crumble of dust in your mind:
that's all I wish to be,
to move around and wander,
to fit into every unpolished crack,
and perhaps find a place for myself.
As an astronaut might feel
in the infinite vastness of space:
belittled and feeble,
but spellbound,
even in the darkest spots
that might drag him to his perish.

In one year,
I've wandered around like the seasons,
in search of a place to let my scars
turn golden.
My blood has freezed, and now
I'm carrying ice-bergs in my tired veins.
I am a product of fog and dust,
slowly becoming invisible
and unsettling.
Not even the moon could reach out to me
anymore,
for I've sunk so deep into darkness,
its light would die here.
There's a different king of living in this land,
all marked by agony and madness,
and grim laughs that terrorize human souls,
whispers that play with their minds.
I've reached the end,
the cruel end,
and now,
there's nowhere to go.

I feel like I watch life pass by
From behind bulletproof glass
As if I'm a museum exhibit
Just waiting for time
To make me priceless.
No wind
No sun
Not much air left.

You were fire
and I was water,
always trying to tone you down
always a little behind you,
cleaning up the mess you made
with your flames and your wrath.
But I couldn't breathe through the smoke anymore
and I fell to the ground,
tired and lost.
When I opened my eyes,
you were gone,
and the only thing left
was a pinch of ash from the part of my heart
you burned out.
The worst thing is,
after all this time,
it's still a little bit warm.

I gracefully turn myself mad,
jotting emotions
that could cut me raw,
while bowing to whispers of fog.
I can't contain monsters of cranky reality,
knocking, knocking,
BANGING
at my door.
There's folly floating in the air,
filling up my lungs.
I shall succumb to it,
or else suffocate.

Forgetful to a fault-
never eager to remember what has been,
because that only translates to what I’ve lost.
And if forgetting means ripping parts of my flesh,
I’ll do it with a smile
as if I’m shedding
the no longer needed:
I’ll give my wings-
reminders of my fall.
I’ll give my sore veins-
reminders of crimson red on white skin,
of crimson red on a white moon.
No memories will stain my life,
as the night sky is stained with light
unwilling to let true darkness exist.

Heroes are only born when remembered;
but I am to be forgot.
Remember me not.

Such an oddity:
not to feel anything at all.
One cannot describe the emptiness
that makes you fall into yourself,
desperately trying to fill a gap
that is designed for hollowness.
Should my heart stop,
I wouldn't know,
for it already it
half dead
and half invisible.

I am a pool of broken glass:
Sharp edges
And rough surfaces.
No matter how gently you dive in,
I am bound to hurt you.
Once, I was a beautiful stained glass.
Now, I am only stains and pieces.

I've been tasting darkness on my tongue
like candy;
I've been feeling blood flowing warmly through my veins,
ready for sacrifice:
the blood of a goddess,
the shine of the brightest star the night has ever held
and the mind of the most enigmatic child
the moon has ever raised.
I have been-
I am-
I always will be.
I feel,
I feel,
I fall with such satisfaction
you'd think I'm flying.
I let the sky bear the mark of my existence.

You do not **** a goddess.
You open up her chest,
looking for magic
and leaving darkness instead.
You caress her skin
until the stars cut through it
from the inside,
eager to be touched as well.
You look for the universe in her eyes
and you get lost,
while she has to find you again.
You do not **** a goddess,
you do not make her less than she is,
but you lose her,
if while worshipping her
you forget that she bleeds.

Hello, once again, dear stranger.
I know I said I'd never turn your volume down,
but it's grown to torture me
with reminders that
I can't ever have you.
I must confess, I can't take it anymore.
I'm sorry, dear stranger,
I wish I was for you,
but there's nothing crueler
than watching you from afar,
so now I have to go even farther,
to keep myself away
and safe.
Good-bye for now, restless stranger.
I'll keep you in my heart.

I let my  hair bow to the slow wind of hope;
I let my words fall like auburn leaves on paper;
I let my soul dare to believe
in life,
in serenity,
midst universal death.
I took the plunge
I fell head first
ready to graze harsh concrete,
but I rose.
My flight has just begun.

Sweet uncertainty
was something I had to feed my body off of,
when there was nothing else to hold on to.
Everything was colorful,
for my eyes were trained to see signs
of soon-to-be-lives.
Now, when the only thing I've got
is the definite stain of ink on paper,
life is gray.
And gray is my favorite color.

Has it really been that long since

flowers were blooming in my hair,

stars were shining in my eyes

and tingles were dancing on my lips?

It feels like only yesterday that

you picked all my flowers,

shot at my stars

and pressed your lips to mine

until all the tingles faded.

Has it really been that long

Since I fell into a deep winter?

Maybe spring’s just around the corner.

Courteously skipping through petals and broken glass,
I make my way home.
It’s been a while.

Trees bow down in greeting;
Rain dampens my cheeks,
Mildly reminding me of the way things used to be,
When innocence still stained me red,
When stars still blinked at me.

So now I walk with steady steps
That the ground doesn’t recognize.
Only depth and chasm know my pace.

I push open the door--
“Good evening, girl of ice.
Same darkness, same time?”

And I'll learn to hold my pen tighter,
to make my words larger,
to paint my colors brighter,
gazing at the moon harder,
with my face paler,
like the sun has never met me.
And the stars will fall lower,
closer and closer to my heart,
trying to pierce through it
and set my soul free from this cage of flesh and blood,
when all it wants is to swim
deeper and deeper
into the waves of the sky
that is staring back at me every  night.
And if the ground shall claim me,
holding me back with its roots,
space dust shall come
and take me home-
a home where limits are foolish
and eternity rules above our meek eyes,
shadowed by the fog of human superiority.
And the curtains shall rise
and in the midst of the show,
I might find myself floating through millions of lives
I never asked for.
I only wished
to know my place.
I only wished
not to want to be saved,
for once.

Was I a burning flame in the sky?
What am I now?
Now I’m struggling on the ground,
struggling to lift my gaze upwards,
to call for my sisters,
and my chest is pained
by the distance between us.
Now my flesh bleeds in shades of red
and my bones crack
from gravity’s pressure.
Now the only star dust
is in my eyes,
and it’s blurring my sight,
and it’s making me cry.

Was I a burning flame in the sky?
So what if I was?
Now I am only human,
so sensitive to pain,
so fragile,
so destructible.

I am merely a reminder
of what I used to be.

I could’ve loved you better.
I could’ve entwined my thoughts with yours,
hoping to create a bond so strong
that when we were to fall,
it wouldn’t be broken by gravity.
I could’ve peeked through the key hole
of your mind
just to get a glimpse of what
you were trying to hide.
I could’ve been standing
at the edge of the galaxy in your eyes,
in awe of all the ways in which you shone,
be it day or night.

Perhaps I didn’t know how to;
perhaps I thought I had more time.

I could’ve loved you better.
But I didn’t even understand how you could
so simply
so purely
so divinely
love me.

if this room bites,
then so do I;
remember how many times change has been spoken,
uttered though ****** teeth.
you make your own wounds,
you collect your own tears,
you tear apart your own red string.

If this room bites,
There’s no need to knock-
I’ll be here.

Such a betrayal-
to be deserted on the floor by your own body,
to be reduced to darkness by your own eyelids,
to be denied air by your own lungs.
The senses fade,
the will vanishes,
the colours run dry.
Something has died.
And now flies swarm around my mind.

You see, I shared so much with you,
I expected all the things that I liked
to be tarnished by your touch,
ruined by your absence,
broken by your memory.
But they aren’t.
The moon still glows over me like I’m her only child
and she never noticed your hand
entwined with mine.
The stars still smile shyly at me every night,
and they don’t whisper your name.
Everything I once was,
I still am.
I haven’t lost any pieces
and the places we went to
don’t carry your footsteps,
they don’t haunt me.
They just exist.
I still remember.
But that doesn’t change anything.
I kingdom built with strong bricks and love
doesn’t get blown down
by the wind passing through.

Today I threw away the third letter I wrote to you.
I always write them under the moonlight,
under the impression that
it might somehow make every word sacred,
every sentence holy.
I write them with shaky hands and teary eyes.
I write them for me,
I write them for you.
But when morning comes,
I taste regret on my tongue
and each letter feels poisonous.
So I rip them apart
with the same fierceness I tore myself away from you.
Closure?
I don't know how to get it
when I'm not the only one that had been hurting.
I still hang on to the unfinished.
I only wish to let go.

Her blood is the blood of the stars,
Haven’t you heard?
They’ve played your dismissal in the choir of misfortune
And the roses you grew have found their perish
Long before the season of blossom.
Your name can’t be read in constellations anymore,
Nor can you see what you once were.

In a moment, the world turns
And the girl you knew escapes.
From the rings of Saturn she leaps,
And from her fingertips she lets go.

Were I to chase the light,
I could never turn back,
not to darkness,
not to shadow,
not to any breath left untaken.
There is no end,
there is no limit.
There are only whispers
lighting flames into my head.
I might never reach it,
but every fallen star
has its own everlasting presence.

Trying not to tumble and crush,
I give my all
to walk this thin line
between madness and balance,
between ill and sane.
Most days,
I want to spread my arms
and let strong winds
drag me to the ground.
One day,
I'll shut my eyes
and let myself go.

Hey there, lover,
I've seen you in my dreams
and my heart hasn't slept since,
in fear of getting hooked up on you;
but even in insomnia,
she can't escape.
I want you around, lover,
but one of us will have to get hurt,
and it can't be me again.
You'd better run, lover.
I'm not who I used to be,
now I bite and I scratch,
and  I make sticky webs,
and you wouldn't want to get caught up in them.
Farewell, lover,
I'll pay you a visit
when I can't fall asleep.

Good morning, beautiful.
Isn't that how you used to start my day?
Every word a love letter
addressed to me.
I foolishly thought to be in control,
when I was just hanging by a sound
of your voice.
"Please forgive me"
is not  what I'll remember,
but rather the conviction
"I can't do it anymore."
"Good-bye,my love."
is what I've been saying for so many months,
but somehow
it never hits its target,
so I've made a lullaby of it.
At night, it's all I sing.