I cannot guarantee anything.*  
the warmth of breathing human being
ruffle the cool strands of my hair,
untidy yet shimmering softly
gentle beams of moonlight
Stars glisten in the dark navy sky,
the moon floating like a pearl orb of silver sunlight
To have our feet tired from walking the daily bouts of life,
to feel the comfortable weight of life lifted even for a moment.
To have the stereo humming with low,
swaying beats of brilliant acoustic,
guitar and a ringing voice buttered
with the soothing strum of an ocean’s breeze.
To have our backs nestled on the hood of the car,
the head lights trailing two perfect beams
which stretch far into the dark night,
The headlights catch the swaying stalks of golden hay,
the flutter of moths swinging about in the fray
As the night wanes and the early morning precede,
the car will be turned off, the headlights no more,
so that all that can be heard is our silence
The morning is beautiful,
the silence a comfortable melody,
One whispers a syllable or so,
soon a train of laughter is followed,
it is broken with the voice of loss and defiance,
of confusion and youth,
the air is sweet and lingers with
the hard knock of trees, presumably pine.
The horizon glows with the faintest sheer blue,
the pine trees stand in the distance
Soothing, cool breeze flutters across the field,
Like the way I feel
When my life feels right
In short glimpses as such
Yet,
I cannot guarantee anything.
My memory taunted me

Hello

Introduced to those
withered marrow knives
carved from the bone
of noble beasts and wights

Bathed in the moonlight
Cut the ropes
binded to my feet

I would very much
like to walk the fire

That knotted twist
of gut wrenching fists

The tension snapped
like a drawbridge
Flooded in sunlight

Haven't been genuinely
happy in a century

Fall, fall into the
crashing waves
Calling on melodies

Can barely breathe
with those fists wrapped
around my throat

Neglect such certain tragedies
leap into strife of
Infinite possibilities

Never thought I'll slip away
Mirror shattered on concrete

Bits and pieces
memories heaving
Shimmering like daisies

No one is going to save me
Pick those fragments
glue them,  nimble and stern

So I can look myself
in the eye again

Ringing vibrants and melting notes
an echo of my sorrows
suffering
happiness
and
sanity
Beheld in that single struck chord
or the ghost of love
left lingering
on lips

A cluster of antlers
knocking upon whithering
knots of raspberry flesh
shredded from smitten jagged
Ends of your hands
Call back the yawn of Sun
brilliant gorges of yellow beams
string back the gorgeous night
where sorrows are to be drowned
and glittering stars to be sewn
onto my flesh and bone
wielding a cloak of thrice longevity  stars are same as the sun
Clutch onto last remnants,
Desires behold, life to love whole
Keep my sanity, throw caution to wind
Run with those stags,
knock antlers and breathe
kiss the deer and drink water
running through the creek of laughter

A fraction thrown into abyss
A sliver of chosen tragedy
Cast those creaking lights
Like crisp piercing tails
Trailing the wounds
placed over our hearts
run smooth,  touch hesitantly
fingers sliding over the scar tissues
tombston buried forever
in our figments of contorted minds
Oxygen flushing into
Brittled cavities of our lungs
stung rotten with words which stung
take a damp sponge
Spewing warm water
learn to dab our own heads
to soothe the fever
of humanity's love
and endeavor

****
the ice cream
is entirely eaten
I needed that
when I got
home

note to self

avoid laying down
my eyes begin to tire
head hang heavy
thoughts run empty
before I get
*any work done

craning my neck to the never-ending ascent
cemented stairs narrowing into dizzying consent
flickering, dull neon lights,
my shoes tapped as I puffed
above the steps of flight
the air was cool,
posters plastered on the gloss
sharpie scribbled pertaining messages
historical analogies, flashback memories
creak, the heavy metal door opened
place a stopper, shush my breath away
before me splayed an array of shafts
wooden beams and rotating lighting crafts
silent and dark, empty and stark
I tiptoed and clung to the ladder
tasting like metal and smelling of riddles
I finally sit, spotter vibrating in hand
the piercing white light following my
every trail
headset fastened, murmuring conversations
the show is starting in
3
2
1
go
actors file onto the gleaming stage
vibrant hues and melancholy shadows
each element working in unison
my hands spotting the beams
flashes of color
ringing tones of vocal chords
musical, theater performance
and I sit in my booth
hands tingling from light's heat
watching the show unfold,
behold, transform,
beneath my feet

Standing aside
sun gibbering
a moments collide
rotating dreams
shifting upon axis
thrown adrift,
start the car
it's time to go
seeing faraway
pollen drifting
in your hair
set of jaws
Tense in despair
smell the gas?
Time to go
on the verge
Off the curve
careful not to drive
Into the sea
careful not to drive
over the wet sand
wary of desires
too easily
set adrift

grey, gloomy shadows transpire
from the pale beaded window
cold, slushy drops rap the glass
I undo the laces to my shoes
and tumble onto the ground
hard, bronze wooden floors
gleaming silently, like
petals of moon unfold
I hear my lungs rushing
exhausted climbing to the
apartment floor,
shoulders strained from
balancing my bag
a wallet of nonexistent cash
makeup probably smudged
lipstick faded, my muscles begin to sag
I wish to fade, so very gently
just to forget about my stress
to bury my anxiety permanently

A rush of blood
straight to my head
I think I see the ground
maybe it's shuddering
beneathe my feet
or are my arms are still
attached to my body
I can't tell, not anymore
not without your cologne
wait, is that music in my ears
earbuds hunming soundlessly
I think I have been daydreaming
I must have been
the teacher have been screaming
my name,
it's three syllables not
******* twenty six
pay no attention,
I don't stir any trouble
I am human too
resonance reoccurring confidence
a dazzling spray of mist
spur me someplace new
this institution is
bleaching innate good

Made of gold
that levitating throne
swelling hands and chipped nails
that's what took me to construct it
scraped knees and sore stomach
I built a throne made of gold
watch me ascend it
race, wayfaring cry
before someone sits in it
that hole I hid myself in
has flooded with remorse
I will never go back
so I'll find another home
with a better view
and that throne of gold?
who needs it
Build myself a treehouse
Instill my authentic self

don't you know,
don't you know that
sometimes my hands shake
as I am holding my phone
or I pound the keyboard
fingers dripping of turmoil,

don't you know

I hug this mug of tea
this sweet, black cherry tea
warmth seep through the porcelain
a wonderful sensation blooming
on my tongue

yet, that old fellow over there
with cowered eyes flecked with grey
a long peppered beard and hair so thick
he had a crane which endured all the sick
and came to poke his gnarled  finger
at my cup of tea

dear, he said oh dear
and I tilted my head
not knowing what to be said
do you see what you have done to yourself?

I glance down down, at my fingers wrapped
around the cup of tea
the tea was not steaming, nor warmth presented
my fingers were merely frozen
and the sweetness was long forgotten

the pooling black cherry
I saw my face reflected
and I didn't recognize
the eyes blinking anymore

who gave you that tea?
the old wise man whispered
that tea was a gift to me
I whispered even quieter still
the tea have grown cold long ago
and you have been here huddled all alone
he haven't bothered an offer of hospitality
he left you to grow cold and still

and I realized, my hands shattered the porcelain
the tea dripped in a sludge
I kicked at the broken pieces
and began to spark a flame

and now why the bright orange flame?
the old man said and sat in the grass
I am kindling my own
I said with a fiery puff of breath
he chuckled and nodded
you have grown wiser
*with a rare undertone

ponder why the iridescent eyes
possibly cannot derive
of such great sights,
soar into vast shuddering heights
claw away the leafs which scatter
blinding like red and orange kites
spotting the thunderstorm
which lightening refuse to strike
nestle under the skies gone restless
a little unsteady in the heart
in a place which speaks to me like art
with all the visions,
hues and textures, movement without numbers,
a timeless monologue
but of the cracking paint
fat over lean they always say
just remember never to layer
the thin over the strong
you would just end up cracking
now what is the painting
the red kite and thunderstorm
what does that really mean now

some memories which have created me
I have been homesick lately.

I have lived far and wide
have seen the excursions
foreign to many eyes
my childhood born in the suburbs of Tokyo
rising to the bittersweet aftertaste
of concrete and metal,
everyday learning something new
an endless adventure,
boarding a subway and just to go
then to that of the northernmost island
Hokkaido, where I learned to love
the gentleness of snow
yet fear the brutality of the cold,
spending days and hours
entire weeks on the mountain side
wooden log cabins, wonderful blazing fires
with a snowboard strapped to my leg
oh, how I feel so powerful and graceful
flying down the mountain
carving into the chest deep snow
hear my laughter echo into the air
as I watched the stars glimmer
on the icy peaks,
and in the summer everything turned green
I went kayaking and painted
in the fluttering sweet breeze
then back to the city I found myself
eradicated from my home country
placed in Seoul Korea
my apartment that of 31st
of a 45 story building
riding the subway from and to school
that was nothing of difference with me
the city never truly sleeps
and I don't remember ever closing my eyes
with a longboard underneath my feet
hurling through crowded streets
cars honking in rush hour
the city lights seen for miles and miles
getting lost in alleyways and black markets
craning my neck to see metal scrape the sky
because of such cities, Tokyo and Seoul
I always ventured at night, a nocturnal teenage girl
skirting on the Han River, meeting so many people
being multilingual  but always alone,
never behind the closed end of the door
in Seoul that's where I discovered how to cope alone
in Tokyo I discovered the joy of the unknown
a short excursion in that of Hawaii
tasting the salty seas
riding the crashing waves every morning
watching the sun rise and feeling comfort
in the soft white sands and tall green palm trees
flying down paved roads
and underestimating sunburns
long boards and parks, going swimming in the dark
lush forests and scaling mountains
I had no money but made the best of it
then to the mainland, the big United States
I haven't been here very long, in the midwest
probably will never understand
the southern accent
and the American youth's mindset
only, I haven't been here very long
I have been stuck inside
but I have nothing to hide
it's a different society
a culture which always escapes me
I have been dreaming but remember nothing
just feeling a bit homesick

soft scuffles, flurry into the frigid temps
the white frozen crystals cascade silently
opaque grey skies bellow in furry
spitting more cold as my feet tread
haphazardly, the cold bites my lungs
I run, breathing heavily
treading thick footfalls and smiling earnestly
whipping through trees, toppling over rocks
today I drove to the mountainside
knowing quite well a blizzard was brewing
distinctively reflecting the recklessness inside of me
but this was something which I love to do
to feel my heart beating and my body competing
against the coldness blown my nature
a hint of carelessness sometimes brings out
the best in me,
thick hat and slimming tights
yak tracks to keep my shoes from slipping
skirting around fallen logs and hearing
the crackle of frozen river beds
the sun simply glowing upon the snow beds
as I made my way around the mountain bend
golden light melted, filtered through the
pine leaves, stifling sweetness
with that of the coldness
I couldn't feel my cheeks and my toes
were growing numb,
yet I am much too used to that now
my thighs were beginning to burn
and ice kissed along my exposed neck
there hasn't been anyone to do that lately
I could see my breath puff out in front of me
reminding me that I am still very much living
it's not me and my head anymore
its me and the mountain, running without
no apparent reason,
other than to feel loved
by that of the intimate curves
and the treading of my
sore feet

I consume the daily bouts
Collective hours spent
Immersed in poetry
scrolling through memory
Images of such beauty
sneak peek in someone else's dream
lost behind words
stuck behind layers of clothes
Concealing that screaming part of me
it all builds
until that sweet spot flickers on
in that pool of artistic insanity
I follow the tug
to the stench of turpentine
and glisten of hues
I can feel it as I speak
that urge to spill
every part of me

those songs are always about somebody else

I've told myself not to be so worrisome

that life is what happens when I am not
paying attention

the dirt underneath my fingernails

the way my hair flutters in the breeze

the avalanche tumbling thousand of miles away

the laughter bellowing in an empty stairway

the shudder of breath upon a doorstep

the clicking of keyboards in another's bedroom

the realization dawned that time, that emotion, that next day

is irreversible

is irreplaceable

single,
a troublesome definition
dumbfounded by it's lack
of conviction
single,
a single note harrowing
in an extravagant orchestra
a single notion
caught staring across the room
a single spoonful
of sugar in tea
a single stitch
in a new dancing queen
a single detail
swimming in overwhelming
distractions,
it's beautiful to me
you see,
single**

a single person
is living and breathing
somewhere on this globe
all there needs to be
is a single moment
a glitch in time,
a space reservation
to say hello

in lack of warmth to press away
trembling, crackling thoughts
resonating in my head
sometimes it's empty in there
steady rhythm of cascading snowfall
humming guitar strings bleeding
with every pick and measured swing
the sinking sunset and strips of black clouds
hands gone cold, skimming the steering wheel
driving where no one ever goes, where my feelings
today could just flutter and roam,
the rumble of the engine, I could feel
tumble over the train tracks
I drove for hours to the country side
swaying golden stalks and rolling hills
where even the clouds and horizon flirt
I drove with the music pounding into the metal
with nothing but silence to soothe the rampage
windows rolled and the wind bellowed
whipping my ears to stinging numbness
a grin creeping as the sunlight glinted
singing, really, through the branches and trees
pockets of snow hiding in shadows
sometimes I wonder how I can be happy
when I want to be loved so badly
to want someone to hold me
yet so content in my own company,
I drove, far far away
until the sun set and the stars begin to glint
the ******* galaxy immersed
I was a deer caught in headlights
as the music and bitter taste in my mouth
couldn't even compare to the way
I wanted a syllable spoken
in my passenger seat

a Japanese word
tattooed across
my thumping heart
honne, it speaks
meaning of one's
true feelings,
that's the way
I should be
I promised when
I was young,
to all those I love
to all those trembling hands
I wish to hold still and hold
when the darkness
presses without permission,
I don't want to be
a master puppeteer
no, I just want to
genuinely be
what my inner desires
resembles to be

hands curled next to my cheeks
damp from the moisture
which seeped as I slept
an exhale of beauty,
grandiose yet so sweet
confined inside these walls
I built around my bruised heart
I felt the light dance on my eyes
and the warmth glistened
peeking my eyes open,
I cried, a sudden blinding sensation
the fiery orange,
the yawning majesty of galaxies,
imprinted in my vision
this morning I woke up
to the sun in my eyes
shining behind the line of trees
the bone-chilling cold
which crept in my toes
I had the sun dance in my eyes
a temporary blindness
now I know to never cry
in my sleep

the soft thump of leather boots
paints scattered across blue jeans
pen of black ink
nestled behind my ear
the sensation of oxygen
filling in my lungs
damp pavement
and melodies echoing
in my head
I am searching for paper
that figment of parchment
I have all the ink
yet I seem to kiss goodbye
the howling sheets
as I walk by
never quite feeling like
I should make permanent
my life