My ears caught a group of marching bands playing on a moving train
Circling around, giving, taking breath to that ticking, that flame framed clock above the mirror

They always sound louder when you are not around --which means always
And loudest at 3:17 a.m. when I write you letters I can't ever send

Their rhythm never fit but I never missed even a heartbeat of mine
Because I wish, I wish yours'd one day join

And I thought I wish I were deaf
Just so I could refer those who wish they were deaf as arseholes

(It's been a long time of pretending
That I know about you --at least a thing)

I am always wrong and this poem is genuine

I was lost
And not found

I wish I had screamed
Before you'd put your earphones on
But I, I
Couldn't scream the music
Your ears needed to hear

I was a parasite
In a womb of an 11 year old lady
Whose father called an exorcist
Instead of hugged her and said it would be okay

I remember what she said when she was my age:
Nothing, my child, nothing would be okay

It was a volcano
Who gave her a flower crown
Made of frangipanis and carnations
Stolen from a cemetery --her mother's
And every death will always mean strength
For the earth

My heart beats in staccato
But, you don't care anything about music, do you?
It was my favorite song
Played over and over and over
And over
Like what you'd said about the duration of love

It's over, my dear

And I wish I had screamed before you'd put your earphones on

Through holes spotted on my veins you sound like a mad river, telling me only the things I can never accept, shoving your voice down, ripping, crushing my fragile tympani into a freezing blood rain. Hey, here's your umbrella, the same as all those black parachutes bloomed on the day your father had married for the second time, leaving you and your mother assuming he was dead, and yes, he was. He was dead in your heart with all your unforgiveness disguised as a strangely unconditional love, just like one of your old shirts your mother had sewed for you now hanging in front of your beautiful neck, tied into a noose, a fascinating noose I would like to die for.

I am singing you a song of the ringing dawn, a kind of song which probably would only be played on the last day of earth when there would be no regret waiting, a kind of song which would be forgotten forever after its first note; no more swaying on the edge of the cliff, no more waiting to be pushed down, no more begging for the oven to be turned on.

I want ocean, and there you are out of my reach.

It was a different kind of aching
An aim blurring itself, left me sweating
Do you know where the firefighters went?
It all began in 1911
But that's the most I do know

Splitting images had never been my expertise
Remembering faces, I whirled as I had greedy desires of touching many different flames
Meet me again in the heart of the forest, would you?
You wouldn't, you wouldn't, you wouldn't
Said like a mantra but I had stopped believe in Gods since a long, long time ago
It was when we first met
When you became the only God I acknowledge

I started a cult and it's all about you
But I am not much different
From when I thought Jesus could have had saved me but actually couldn't
So I eventually left Him, so I left Him
I left Him like it was just an ordinary different kind of aching

a lady burnt
on your stove
and you smiled.

that lady grew
into jasmines
and you smiled.

you only cry
when you smell
dried forget-me-nots.

i've been thinking of
asking this question
a lot;

your name
sounds really pretty
--what does it mean?

You are the sweet taste of the meaningless
Sweet as a rose, you have thorns sting as a bee

You are the darkness desired by all bats
Next day you wake up crying a farewell
Kiss your bye to that bright light you once had on your well

Don't you worry
She still fakes ******* 'til the bleedings fade

Don't you worry
Tonight on her dream you two kissed
Not for real, at least nor last

She still misses you like you did
And I am sorry
I am sorry

I am sorry

When you think your grandma is now at heaven,
do you wish you were a star?
I mean, how come someone doesn't wish they were a star?

When you think your mother still misses your dead father,
do you wish you were a star?
Do you wish you would keep shining even if you exploded?

When you think of your girlfriend who is now married,
do you wish you were a star?
Do you wish you were now dead? Do you? Do you?

You are strong, at least stronger than a group of cumuli
And breathtaking, at least more breathtaking than a beautiful sunrise after seven years spent on a basement

You aren't nothing
You are the air around humankind
You are a bit contaminated --or a lot, doesn't matter-- but you are needed

See? Here are lungs that crave you
Here it is, come to me, live within me, watch me die

Do you know why they killed the caterpillars?
Do you?

When exactly did you stop wishing upon a star?
I remember you liked the color blue
I remember you said something about your ex and the moon
I remember you kept saying names that isn't mine

I always wanted to be a butterfly but now I have accepted the truth
I am a scattered winged moth and
I still have seven days left

you, too, are broken
like me, like a wounded tree;
nothing could save you.

I fall because I
am afraid of height, I fell
but am still afraid.

I started writing poetries
But all I could read from it was
The sound of bones cracking
Another cry I always told myself not to be let out
The sound of eyeballs falling to a spring

I kept repeating your recorded voice
Breathing to it over, over, all over again
Couldn't smell your soul
Couldn't feel the warmth of your breath

I accidentaly broke my chest, ripped my heart,
Accidentally casted the darkness away
Couldn't find you
Couldn't see you

How was your voice again?
It was a dusty bluish green
A moss-covered 2 p.m. bright sky

Do you ever see our star?
It's called "sun"
The one that casts you away from your mind
But not mine

I'm sleeping early
Not drinking coffee
Not reading your poetry
To, to avoid you from appearing in my dreams
No, no,
Nothing works