When they look at me they see right pass me.

Yep, right pass me, right through the soul.

They see a ghost, a shadow.

Someone with mediocre tendencies.

or perhaps weirdness that cloats my physical body.

the mysteriousness of my personality choke them with fear and bewilderment.

only a few is able to encounter the lock door.

Yes, only a few is able to knock on the door with no ****.

Some are patient, waiting for it to open.

Others look at it with contempt and kick on it.

Some becomes frustrated and insane

Others celebrate it, being naive to the feeling of the door.

And everyday the door locks itself tightly.

17 bolts and locks

17 chains and plates

but no ****……

eventually the environment vitalize and degrades constantly.

a different environment each time

but the old door keeps on standing

waiting for it to be open……

Cry, cry all you want
I don’t want to see salty tears
burning through the mahogany table like droplet holes.
I don’t want your dry lips pressing against mines as they will crack,
your excuses for ripping my heart out with a silver spoon.
and definitely don’t want the necklace I gave you full of fleas.
I want you gone, gone from this castle!…………….
“Drip, drip, drip, drip”……
I stared hard out the window.
Is it my fault she had to be such a *.
Her dripping boots treading across
the moody landscape, a sign of failure.
Let her rot on the trenches of spears.
I died for you we, you stank w*e
I died, I died , I died for you!!!……
“Honey wake up”…
“oh my dear, I had a terrible nightmare”
” I saw you staring at the window and
thought you saw a ghost of some sort.
You were deathly pale"
Oh, was I?, It must have been my reflection……