What are you afraid of?

It is always the first thing
I want to ask right after the first *hi
but it is also always
the thing
I finally dare to ask
after the last
bye.

I will be dead
and become posthumously insane

and I will remember Suzanne Vega
every time I hear your name

I will take that look
of Vivienne Westwood's

and I will sing and sing and sing
and sink and sink and sink

and I will not think
of the appropriate things

Because I will be dead
and become posthumously insane

Even though long scarf does not suit this neck
and gas oven does not fit this head

and .38 caliber revolver is not
something a 17 year old girl would own

there is no need to worry
because now I know what loves me

It is not the explosion, not the oxygen
Not the carbondioxide, not the cyanide

It is the water, any kind of water
the tears, the saliva, the seawater

And I learnt from Haruki Murakami
that even a plastic bag would do

Mimicking the deepest sea
The sensation is true, is true ----

I remember; you liked a lot the word drown
You liked a lot the word drown

you were one's most favorite poem which one could never have the heart to bring to words ---

not anymore.

She doesn't really want storms
It's just that she breathes dreams of storms
and what comes to her eyes,
those silly rainbows and
dead waterlilies and half-dried rivers,
makes she feel like a fat mad white rabbit
who is dancing and stamping
on you. She always knew it was you -----

Varieties of rain-clouds
Spreading like sudor glands on
her mosquito-bites covered skin
And the pores will not stop yawning
and drooling Anna Akhmatova's line
Dripping down her throat, her temples and legs; You will hear thunder and
remember me, and
think: she wanted storms.

She doesn't really want storms
It's just that she likes thunder and thinks it
as another form of sound waves her ears
used to eat a lot on Friday
and Saturday
nights.

Now it becomes faeces.
Your voice.

This sad scent on my fingers reminds me of the two kids I saw on the bridge. They were supposed to be selling peanuts and crackers, but they were playing with it instead. It reminded me of the photograph of a child ******* with a shabby barbie left on the ground. How cruel the world is. How come the government let this to happen? This must be stopped from happening. We must rise. Revolt. Unite. Yeah. Rise. Revolt. Unite.

"If there is not justice for the people, let there be no peace for the government." ~Emiliano Zapata

Lol no just kidding. Who cares about it. This sad scent on my fingers just reminds me of

you.

do not wake me up
when i come to you
and kiss your hand
just close your eyes
and sleep
dry lips on your eyelids
not mine, not mine
i am not here
the weight you feel
the warm breath against your skin
the trembling touch on your cheek
not mine, not mine
your doubled heartbeats
caused by too much coffee
please believe me
or not
just close your eyes
just do not wake me up

i will turn off my phone
and look at the door;
as long as the brown of
the wood stays as itself
as long as it is there
as long as i can find it
after every single time blinking
as long as it does not open
as long as the air does not change
as long as i do not know
if you are behind
if you are hesitating to knock
if you are waiting
for me to reach the door ****

White bed sheet
Strangely picked wallpapers
White eyes, white eyes
Die
Army and explosives
Molotov never did taste this sweet
Yellow lights, beware of God
Pray for us sinners? No ---
Let Mary Jane sing
the sonnet alone
Let Marionette
see your death
Believe her, believe her
No Jesus would be
Stop praying the Rosary, stop it
Don't you want to puke when you hear
Hail Mary? Führer! Führ---
You live like Cleopatra
whose tongue was a cobra
whose eyes were the black swans
on the lake where you first
drown
yourself. Are you Narcissus?
I am an echo
An echo not Echo
The smell of rain won't ever
Won't ever
Won't ever
Won't ever

Peeled toad's skin
Like an apple's
The Cs are not enough; Never ---
Crescent moon
Cat's sad eye, another blind
I miss you

Jesus, I be lifted higher
Higher, higher
Be lifted higher
Even though we are not the same
Different ways
And we walk on different path
Different road
I just copied that from somewhere
But it matches
With the notes
And be as one
Holding each other's hand in gratitude
Jesus, my arm is not that long
My mind is not that strong
I still have a picture of you on my phone
At night I delete it
The morning after I find you again
It is the lost children's song, it has no end
I can't hear you when I practice on bath
I can't feel you when the water fills me up
Magdalene would not come
It is Natalia
It is Natalia
Now you know who you are
Pictures of daisies on the front page
The blond, long hair
Ensnare my neck, my legs, even the chest
Heart not beating, it is quiet
Is it a candle or a sun? It just burns
The dark is casted away
But you say, dim the light because it helps
How could I not be your migraine?
Different gem pierced on your heart forever
Not really forever, just feels like it
The wounds never be healed
Seven lied that I would make a good healer
These hands are full of barb wire
Colored red of the blood or is it just corroded-
I dare not touch, I dare not move
It would hurt,
it would hurt not you, don't you think I care
Like the sword it is two edged
I need to sharpen my teeth for
the most I could do is biting my thigh
I am a baby trapped in the physique of an adolescent
I don't know I must praise you
And that it's you who is being lifted higher
My ****** friend says
There are a dozen or
two; At two I remember you
Still waiting at that cafe?
It is not me whom you are waiting for
I shouldn't have waited for seventeen years to come
It could have been a coincidence
It could have been real
It could
Not
Be possible and cannot ever be
We do not have the bridge
Ran out of concrete
It reminds me of Tanabata
The kind of one sided Tanabata
Today when I see the stars
I would cry

ii.

Why should I change?
Last night's scent
is all I need to mend.

You were loved
It was a burden
You thought it would be unfair
To not return the love
So you let the deafening silence
Fill the room where your voice
Should have been

I know
You were afraid to love
And now
So am I
If it is not
You

why does it touch you deeper
when i say what i write
is based on a true story?

here and now i use no capitalized word
here and now it's him i remember
for it's him who said:
"small letters are more humble"
you know, this is based on a true story;
i met him but not really
my longhands reached him
far, far away from here
surpassed lands and seas
o, how large is my country --
his equals plus one to my gmt
here foods are sweet and there are spicy
he hated and still hates the food here;
it reminds him of the tyrant
who'd only cared about
the west but not that west
and made the east poor and slaved --
he was one of those who
yelled reformation when i was
only nearly two

i am seventeen and so was he --
when i was born.
i love how thirteen connects
our birthdates;
mine is twelve and his fourteen
and i said to him thirteen was my
favorite number
and purple was my favorite color
for his was blue but
i thought of him as red --
red not of the lust but
red of the color of tomatoes --
his mother was a tomato seller
and since i had known that,
tomatoes began to taste sweeter
sweeter than ever

when i said i liked purple
i didn't know it was the color of
the rain,
his first love ever --
when he was just a kid
he wanted to marry her
but then he learnt at school
the rain is not a girl at all
not even alive
he couldn't marry her but
he still loves the rain
so i do too

you know,
i once was an anti-coffee
i used to drink only and only tea but
he loves coffee
so i do too
i once sent him
my favorite coffee along with
a ta-ta-for-now letter
and he replied to me electronically
with a stabbing sad emoticon
:(
it still stabs
but then he said
the coffee was good
and i smiled
but he didn't know it

do you know
what's better
than a cup of coffee in the morning?
"it's two cups of coffee"
he'd say something like that
so this morning i decided to
have a super sweet tea,
sugar so much it
almost tasted like soda --
every gulp was
painful
to my soul.
i almost found the
god in me if i had drank the second cup but
i made coffee instead
no sugar like i always had
not because i like bitterness
it's because every drop of coffee is him
and he is sweet enough already --
but i broke the rule of two
this morning i had
three cups of coffee
three cups of him
and it wrenched me --
la douleur exquise
-- the heart wrenching pain
of wanting someone you can't have

i don't even have a single autograph
of him
i hoped that he would write me letters
with that pretty handwriting of his
but at the same time
i was afraid that he wouldn't
so i sent him bunch
without an address to reply to --
you know, this is based on a true story;
he is a writer
but he doesn't really like
to be called a writer
because a writer will be jealous
of another great writer so
he calls himself a reader instead
and he embraces his thirst of great books
he is a librarian
he lives around the books
he lives for and from the books
he has three cats
and seems like he will
have more cats and more
like his mother,
his mother loves cats too
it's prophet muhammad's favorite pet
or so he said
on the radio

he is a poet
a broadcaster on a local radio
every friday and saturday
and at the end of the broadcast
he will read poems
sent by emails
even you can send your poem
but not all poems can be read
there are so many, you know
here we really love writing poetry
but few like reading it
like me
i read his poems
not because i loved reading poetry
it was because
it's his, it's him

but now
he has done what he should do
he has completed his role
he has made me believe in poetry
he saved me from the disbelief of poetry
he taught me that poetry
could heal
he said that writing poetry
is hugging
and reading it
is returning the
hug
he would read a lot of poems
when he is sick
and now
that's what i do too

he was the one who kept
my feet on the ground
every time i felt down
i sang silently a7x's m.i.a.
lend me your courage to stand up and fight
so he lent me his courage
so i could stand up and fight
and every time this life
felt so wrong, lacked meaning
i remembered his name
and a promise i promised
to him
on my own mind
"don't die before we meet"
yeah, i wouldn't die
i would never die

there was no other way for us
than being yinyang
and that's why i decided to
hate what he loves
he loves coffee
but i couldn't hate it
he loves poetry
but i couldn't hate it
he loves rain
but i couldn't hate it
he loves sylvia plath
but i couldn't hate sylvia
i can't ever hate sylvia
i can't stay away from his sylvia
i love her
and she loves me back
sylvia is my earth
and that's how i realize
he and i can't ever be --

you know, this is based on a true story;
because i say so.

Forcing to bleed the words
My empty veins
I wish I were more fire than the last time I took myself to the space where elephants were singing sweet summery songs and
Do you know what time is it? My watch is broken and I don't want to know how to fix it and even if I want to I would never fix it because it has the right to be broken and I respect it and the tub is full of filth I really want to bathe in it. I wish ending a sentence were easier than ending a life, but, really, there is no such thing as easy as
No, I will never say that there is no such thing as easy as loving you because I no longer do. I no longer do. I no longer do.
My brother said that I had to learn to lie, or else I would not survive in this society. He did not know that I lied a lot but this might be a lie. I just want a fever so high, a fever so high my face turns blue. I always adore the blue fire, it seems perfect. Yes. Perfect is the right word. I don't know what you were expecting when you started reading this, but whatever it was, I would disappoint you for sure. But please just keep reading. Just keep breathing here. Leave a breath, a spit is better. Do not blink when I say I love you. Because it would be a
I left the cravings and the longings at home, but the home keeps following me and it keeps following me even though I run and run and run but I always finish last among turtles. I remember I had a small turtle and I killed it. It was killed not by my hand but by its own hand but it was me who killed it. Just like the heart that is long forgotten, the dust is now one meter thick, nothing works anymore, have a nice trash bin! Zero glass is enough. I ***** as much as I breathe and that's why sunflowers are yellow and daisies don't grow on your head but dried forget me nots keep blooming and blooming and blooming and the world explode in the divinity of your love to her but this might be also a lie.
Red hibiscus and the pink ones I saw every afternoon on my way to the bus stop. I wanted to live at the chapel where I cried two times, first was forgotten and second also was, as if the rain would give you more hope, more hope, the more I hope I could just forget you.
I don't know who you are.
I am going to continue this as long as the brown of the wood stays as itself but no this is from another poem and I dont want to remember anything anymore I dont want to finish this I dont even want to start this and when you look for punctuation you end like how your mother would **** herself on your wedding day oh no that would not happen because