Maybe I give myself too much credit: that I am good, I am doing better, I am great at my craft, that I have something to show everyone when in reality I am just average at best. What else do I show of myself that is worth a praise more than just “you did your best”? How bare do I have to be for people to pay attention to me? Maybe I am just having a bad day that has been going on for 182 days. But at the end of it all, I am just a mere performance worth 59% rotten tomatoes, it’s more than half, but barely fresh. At least I did my best? What other ******* do I have to say to myself so I don’t end up crying with a blade in my hand? It seems that trying is just never going to get me far, and the best I can give everyone is this: the mediocre poet who dreamed too high and fell so deep she died on sea. She had wings too weak and dreams too heavy that the only place she could reach was the clouds of 9, where she could only see from a few feet afar before she landed and died. That is the only thing I can offer.

The bed has never been the comfiest place to sleep in.
Everywhere else is better than sleeping on a bed.
The couch is inviting, soft, weird place to sleep, but acceptable.
Single wooden chairs lined perfectly, not so much.
But still, better than a bed.
The floor too, albeit cold and flat, it stretched my muscles into place, held me to the ground until I was fast asleep,
so still, it is better than a bed.
Sitting while im on my desk supposedly doing my homework is also better than laying in bed.
Why was everywhere else so much better than being where I should be?
I never fell asleep on the bed. It was too stuffy, too suffocating, too boring, too everything.
It was loud, and banging on my mind with quietness and precision as it does every night.
But most especially, it felt too much like a coffin.
I’d rather sleep anywhere else than on the bed.

in our universe, it was always lonely
so full of hate and anger it bore me
our stars were scattered,
but I can see your universe from afar
somehow it aligned, yours and mine

two different universes, we cross
our paths and meet our past
it was you, who was I,
and who you were opened my eye

past meets the present
mot bound to happen but did,
and now we're staring at the
same moon crescent.

you and I are not the same
it was you who was I,
but I am never you, am I?

illuminating the skies
along with the flowers that have died
going up north,
further up forth

an ocean of stars
making up our galaxy
our universe will not die
because of these stars
an ocean in the sky
will be yours and mine

in the tree that you bloomed so prettily,
the smiles you gave, the comfort, tranquility
in the calm oceans you reside
your presence felt by my side
you truly are one of a kind.
how precious you are
more precious than diamond
one that shines brighter than the sun
blinding the gods, the father, the son
for who you are is magnificent
a flower that bloomed on a tree
a flower that resides deep within the sea

the sky is clear— i go on about my day
as i pass the crystal roads
i saw a feline; astray
i go up to the cat and ask them
“is there anything worth it, my friend?”
hoping for a response, but to no avail
i leave the feline alone and go on about my day
the moon has risen— i prepare to sleep
suddenly i remember the cat on the street
i walk outside and see fireflies
i hear them echo through my ear
looking for the cat, i cannot see but hear
“meow” it calls me, as i walk towards the direction
only could i have noticed i was lost in the dark alley
but the cat i finally found, he was black and round
and then it tells me “there is always something
worth it, even when it’s blurry”

everyday i wake up
i choose you
above anything else,
and any other things
there is you
who comforts
who loves
and who cares
there is you that i choose
and i will always choose