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I like to see myself in a blur
a photograph, trying to get my motion
without stillness in consideration
with details scattered
within the grid of capture
like a speckle of stars
each without correlation.

A blur, you see-
for I am as elusive as my thoughts
indecisive, un-unabridged,
a true reflection of me
luminous, grainy
incomplete.

Yet the murkiness excites me.
for I yearn to chase the
memoirs, fleeting yet
effervescent.
like euphoria, on paper
even though it only last
seconds.

I like to see myself in a blur
Cause to feel the pang
of describing my faces
there, on the canvas

I'd like to think I was, happy.
Cause I only see it in a blur.
a PowerPoint presentation

woke me up, as i input the wrong

numbers that produced a chain reaction

of wrong combination; unacceptable

unhappy

across the room, your voice echoed

as you mentioned five-hundred discrepancies

I have yet to fill

five-hundred mistakes

I have yet to correct

unhappy

five-hundred more, I say,

cause you were wrong

five-hundred more mistakes

with four-hundred ninety-nine of them

is me existing,

and one, is for the wrong calculations

splattered across my dusty screen

unhappy

I am rich; but not in the way people perceived

I am rich, but not in the way that people would envy

As I sat here, feigning attention

I saw him; no harness, with hands displayed

as though he was gifted with the ability to fly

but his wings we’re vestigial

cause humans are made to walk; not fly

unhappy

I stared at him, ignoring the mechanical movement

of my hands, ignoring whether I’m corrected by my

muscle memory

I watched him.

Happy.

Dirt poor, with all adorning him was the flicker of light

dimly reflecting throughout, to avoid collision

I want what he had.

happy.

The freedom to fly,

even though flying means death.

happy

The freedom to choose,

to embrace the air,

breathing my last.

happy.

I could just imagine.

for my hands corrected

the mistake that makes me envy

the man with a reflector vest

unhappy.

All i knew is that

the more i press the keys onto the screen

producing what i never wanted,

I’ll always be

unhappy

unlike the man, on the top of the building

at peace, even though,

knowing that one single misstep

can cause him

to cease breathing

at nine point 8 meters

per second.

that to me

is freedom

and I'm

happy.
meeting men
was always that easy.

it was evident
     in the way I
     plan to prepare myself

to venture out
     in the uncertainty of the open

trying to align
the inevitable disappointment
        on my self-predicament.

the way I trace
        the marks of ugly, visibly seen
onto my body

hoping that someone
               would like the art;
                the interpretation
of my
               flaws and sad beauty.


it was always easy
     to try calming the nerves
as I knock at his door, the pounding
of my heart
     from excitement, fear
     and self-loathing

as soon as the eyes
of the outside world cannot see
what lies
           behind these walls
that covers
            not only our fragile bodies,
            but also, our weakened souls
till everything is a blur.

meeting men was always
                 that easy.

it's the same thing
       as we put back our clothes
and maybe,
       kiss goodbye

then run away, with such bliss
          from the thrill of doing
what others can do freely


             amplified
by the pulsing adrenaline
             panicked, weary
if anyone saw
             what we have done.

-----------

meeting him again?
                 that's the hard part.
'I love you'

I can say it a million times

and not feel a thing.
see - cah - moh - re
you used to say that
the wrong ones
dont matter to you, baby-
what if im wrong?
what if i'm not the right one
for you

see - cah - moh - re
you used to say that
the wrong ones
don't matter to you, darling-
but what if you are?
and you're not the right one
for me?

sturdy, sturdy
as the sycamore tree
is my love for you,
my darling thee

but as the roots, spreading
continuously till bedrock-

there is end to us,
there is end to love.

see - cah - moh - re
you say that
the right ones dont matter to you now
for they have no stories
to tell
no regrets to burn

and like the sycamore tree
that you've always pronounce wrong;
till there is growth in stagnation.

I know you're right for me.
Our steps crackled onto the tiles of sycamore
Thudding prints lashed beneath our shoes
Merrily advancing on such pavement
Along with you.

Side by side we barely stopped
Expunging air around with nature
Our bones twitched with each other’s ligaments
While our eyes took moments.
Pacing freely with the wind
Of autumn trees blessing us with leaves
Fallen it may be, but it will be felt
Like a wedding with petals on the carpet.

I barely notice the faces as they bounce
Or the blank mask they wear at the parties
For all I see is my sun
And I will bask with him eternally.

As we were approaching towards the way
Grip within a grip, steps are on square
All it takes to be happy
With you, I realized, it was simple.
From the 1st debut collection 'Suicide, Ecstasy, and Other Poems'
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