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GyozaNeeko Mar 2015
Last night
I dreamt about hell.

In hell they made me live
my life over again.
Just that everything
that I loved and treasured
never happened.
And only sadness and void

And if that was hell,
and we are all sinners,
then I wish
oh I wished
that I have never
met you.
GyozaNeeko Mar 2015
It was just the two of us against all of the sky’s tears that night. Behind askew glasses and matted hair I watched you seep into the chilly wet darkness and pouring noise, how the iridescent urban glows blurred and blinked through your body, like fairy lights on black satin. You gripped my hollowness by the wrist and I came to respect the force of block falls on touch as you threw my world back on its two feet, not before a brief eternity of giddiness and disbelief. The supposedly accursed head of mine took in the images of shock through raindrop-filled lenses as my body changed direction against my will and gravity. My world was a kaleidoscope of lights and blaring horns, and with your hand around mine it was nothing but a distasteful harmony of passion and discord and it made me smile. You were yelling at me and I looked at you and I laughed. You asked me what I wanted and I begged and chortled and pleaded and giggled for the thousandth time, for you to hurry up and tell me that you don’t need me because I had somewhere else I need to go and even after all of that your grip only got tighter, sinking me into the eye of your storm. But that was just you, wasn’t it? Always ready to swallow me straight into your depths in times of uncertainty. I clutched the sides of your dripping face and I peered into your swimmy eyes to admire the reflection of my own and realized I could not find myself because all I saw was the apex of skyscrapers straight pass through your transparency as pure as the waters of the Maldives Islands on a sunny summer day quite unlike this one, but quite like the summers we spent in school for years walking down hate-filled corridors, fingers entwined and then suddenly I was afraid to touch you. I kicked and I screamed and tore ripples through your skin, begging you once more to pour me out of your hands so they are free to start scrubbing the belittling words off our locker doors, or the spay-painted ****** dripping red on the top of your locker like a store brand, hitting you on the head again and again the fact that not all rain yield desirable crops and yet you still pelted raindrop kisses on every inch of my puffy red cheeks till it was enough to smoothen my dry storm down to a drizzle. It was then I realized I was so, so cold. I looked tiredly down below and I was the Emperor of the gazillion city veins below, the King of the critter cars heading nowhere. I was God, and with that power I summoned it and looked back to earnestly, sahara-driedly request you to forget me once and for all because we are in the end sinners in the eyes of common sense, because you were too stubborn to flow out of the box to realize that I am the mercury leak to your springs, slowly diffusing into you when you spread yourself into every crevice of my body when we cuddle at night, a limitless barrel of radioactivity poured down your throat and all over your shirt in the shadows. You came into my life uninvited, flooded my earths with your torrents and left my world in a waste pool of yellow, but also a warm bed enough to nurse a young forest. I hate the way you swept me off since day one just as much as I love drinking in every last drop of your presence. Your arms wafted around my waist like petrichor and lured me back to safety. The rain on the 74th rooftop was ready to stop, but I was.  At least I wasn't sure.

Closing my eyes, I opted to drown.
My first attempt at a short story sigh.
GyozaNeeko Aug 2013
Do not listen to what others might preach.
Heart’s unrest from all the wrongs, do something
Before your life their crude instructions breach.

Diploma and money. Drown them in bleach.
A paycheck is a coward’s worshipping
Do not listen to what others might preach.

Life is too short so make it yours to reach.
Shed your suit and fly it up high, sailing
Before your life their crude instructions breach.

The day you obey, goodwill shall bewitch.
Hush backstage. For the show is beginning.
Do not listen to what others might preach.

And soon you’ll find yourself, nothing but rich.
Not gold, but the joy you have been looking,
Before your life their crude instructions breach.

Now the world needs you; a game-changing speech:
‘All you dare-to dreamers and self-seeking:
Do not listen to what others might preach,
Before your life their crude instructions breach.’
GyozaNeeko May 2013
The dull public ruckus of the afternoon train filled the gaps between us.
We could have been part of it,
Drowned so deep in a conversation we could gladly call our own.
But our past selves have already taken invisible
Steps away from each other.
And tucked ourselves in the tight pockets of this companionable silence
As dangerous as the trigger handled by my emotions,
A gift for your forehead.
I will shove all my pain into your being
And watch my reflection crumble to her knees with a familiar cry of agony.
Mauled into frayed flesh in a crimson rose bush
That we had woven friendship wraths from.
And yet, my rasp throat still delivered smoothly.
“How are you today?”

Your usually anticipative eyes
Watched the scenery outside,
Disappearing just as fast as it came.
Did you think of the first day of school?
When we first approached with awkward greetings?
And from a wave and a smile
You start to attach them with questions
Questions that you should be asking me now
Things like
“Do you think we will end up in the same sec 3 class?”
“Do you want to go to ORA with me?”
“Can you save your game? We already hardly bond in class.”
“Are you even listening?”
I was.
I answered every last one,
From the beginning when we stepped into homeroom.
Even the ones you’ve never even asked me.
But now that I come running to you with my stained envelope
Are you still there at your seat?
To tell me
“You know what you need? A good cup of frozen yogurt.”

Now every glance that met
Will be snapped apart like a crisp twig.
Every walk down the corridor past each other,
Will be like two freshmen models on their first runway.
Every move, breath, laughter,
I will always be aware.
Perhaps because your voice
Will always make up for your height in the crowd,
Audible from the opposite side of the hall.
And its only until I let the quietness sink in,
When I have decided to treasure listening to the way you delivered my name,
Leaving your loud mouth like some exotic font.
That till today I still cannot decipher.

What was my height in your crowd?
164cm tall with probably less than half an inch, I guess.
You never noticed how my eyes would wander unconsciously.
Just to wonder
If you still remember I existed,
Somewhere in the pages of your scrapbook,
In the crowd,
Still searching, listening attentively.

Do you understand now?
We are standing at the extreme ends of Newton’s pendulum
Spiked from the illness of our broken bonds.
And I would swing an end so hard I would skewer you
And then the pain will come
Flying back
Stabbing me just as gruesomely.
But it’s so much better
Than disobeying the laws of reciprocation.
My friend, its unfair to be the only one.
Why not requite this one heaven of a pain?

People have pet the conflicted pain like dust off me,
And ignore the bruises that I have willingly punched myself upon.
They taught me
That the heart is a 2-room residence.
And if you are too happy
Don’t celebrate too loudly
Because you’ll wake the neighbor.

But could it really be helped?
This 1-year worth of what you have given me
You have left 2 party animals as clueless tenants.
Did you understand?
The fact that no matter what silly things we’ve done,
You will always be welcomed home.
And we would continue to drink
Till we are tipsy enough
To walk on the edge of the bridge we have built,
And fall into the hungry rivers
Into the places darker than black
Drowning the air out of our lungs.
But what reason should I be scared,
When you have always been the best swimmer I’ve ever known?
Forever a winner to me,
No matter how many competitions you have paddled out of the pool in disappointment.
It has always been you,
Who would slip over a note to my table,
My hair spilling over its surface in defeat.
Telling me that everything’s ok.
It’s you
Who understood that I was more of a listening person.
Your missing piece to fit your outspoken personality.
The one who could even challenge me to a dance-off just to have the loser ask for the ketchup.
Who could go on forever about a guy you obviously like,
But only say you ‘don’t stand a chance’.
The diplomatic one who would arrange you,
Like files in an office drawer.
The one who tried to hold us together till the end.
Who failed to treasure your efforts, and share this burden.

And now that you’ve turned down the volume,
And walked out of the door without a goodbye
How am I supposed to handle the next morning, when being sober is an absolute nightmare?
Left alone to wonder what I have done
While we’re drunk, carefree and
Crumbling at the seams.

My dearest friend,
Have I ever told you,
How the number 1
Has always been our own funny little number?
Now if you just take ONE step closer…
Yes, I promise this time I’ll keep my earphones away.
I would point at the signboard above the door
And muse over how your stop,
Is ONE stop before mine.
How your birthday,
ONE day after mine.
Yeah… just like how we are ONE world apart in personality.
Isn’t that why we became like this?
You knew.
Now go ahead.
Like how you always do, with that wide grin that reflected nothing but forgiveness,
Stripped down to reveal absolutely no grudges.
Because I deserve it, don’t I?
Because it was my fault,
I was the one, who willingly caused this silent war,
Fraying this thread that I mistook for a hiker’s rope.
There can only be ONE survivor in this meaningless game.
Scold me,
Because there was never such a rule.
I have decided who would be standing alone,
Long ago.
The loser,
The flower that will never find its way back from its ashes.


(hi there. Look I tried ;w;)

— The End —