a stream is a river is a sea is an ocean
a cycle of water breaks free from the same waters
and if anger is the conditioned emotion
we follow same circles, same eldest daughters

i love being soft with you.
gravity is nothing compared
to how you ground me.
the earth shakes, the skies break
and yet
i’ll always know you and
you’ll always know me.
i think about the laughter,
and the next chapters
and usually
the thought, the changes
make me anxious
but you make it better
by existing, by staying.
mike, have i ever told you?
i love being soft with you.

sometimes it is better
to be slightly drunk
it makes my colors duller
it makes my heartbeat slower
it makes my world softer
it makes my mind quieter
and the words?
my god
they come to me
and i didn’t even have to beg
all i had to do was let myself
be led

an orange skyline, ultra-thin and sleek
i take my mother’s scissors and hold it
in my hands. it weighs as heavy as her love.

a chrome red road, glittering and smooth
we run to familiar shadows, familiar monsters
after all, their footsteps sound like love.

an azure getaway car, rumbling and ready
i give you the scissors and you hold it
gently. it becomes water in your love.

a yellow streetlight, bent and rusted
under its pallid color, there’s no monster waiting
after all, could there be fear when there’s love?

an evergreen tree, still and quiet
the car has stopped in a field of wildflowers
sunrise has come and it looks like love.

march is ending soon
and i admit, i still see you
in girls wearing silver bracelets
in lovelorn incomplete phrases
in lilac flowers hanging on vines
in a curious cat’s blinking eyes
i stare at them a second longer
and let myself softly linger
march is ending soon
and i admit, i still see you

im so
humgry
im so so
hungry
my stomach
hurts
im so
******* hungry

the door is unlocked
between the inky hours
of midnight to half past two
i even shook the window’s
rusted silver screen
just to push it all the way to the side
the moon reminds me
you are asleep and dreaming
you cannot climb into my terrace
but i tell the moon
you are resourceful
you only ever needed to ask

come meet me
in dreams, tinged in orange hues
like the ones in movies
where they walk in between trees
talk for hours, holding hands

tell me your troubles
i know the stones you keep in
your head, your chest
i have a better idea for them
let’s run to the lake

you’ll have one, i’ll have the other
watch them skip, circles on the surface
before sinking, forgotten
do not worry, we will be bathed
in golden daylight when we wake

i think there is something
wrong with me
yes, i know you found nothing
in my results but
i am indigo pale in the sun
the river that flowed in between
the cracks of my spine
has ran its water out
and i carry
clouds heavy with depression
tar-like, and beating my chest
plummeting me
to the depths, the depths
of sorrow i felt five years back
and i’m telling you, doc
i don’t think i am meant
to feel this much

in our next life
come meet me
in a school
in a graveyard
in a planet
where there are three suns
hanging in the sky
do not worry,
i can tell it’s you
i cannot meet your eyes
and not know it is you

i think
there is nothing
better than
agate blue
quiet stillness
earth is a
faraway thought
i am already empty
my volume
should be
water instead
of my blood

i return to the shore every night
the waves in indigo shades
i bury my feet in the sand
i am exhausted with my heart

the night makes a quiet friend
she is the cold fog and a starless sky
i swim past the ivory coral reefs
i am exhausted by my heart

the hurt settles on the ocean floor
it feeds the algae floating by
i drown to make sense everything
i am exhausted for my heart

in soft hours when your heart’s
awake dreaming
and you feel a soft whisper
gently tracing
your skin, your spine to your soul
that’s me loving
you

with forceps and scissors
i open myself up
i incise parts of you
still lingering around
the sharp cuts are
methodical, swift -
the poetry is
messy, unrhymed.
with every snip,
i can feel you
leave me
in my lonesome
tiny, quiet life.
it makes me sad,
it makes me happy,
it makes me angry,
and then
i feel nothing
at all.
this apathy, i think
scares me
the most -
have i given you
everything,
after all?
i put this thought
back inside,
i slowly stitch myself
back,
seven of them
holding me together.
if it were possible,
i would like to sleep
for a long time.

goodness is not
an inherited trait
we were born to
learn violence
the soft animal
that breathes inside
hungers for the
clawing, the blood

goodness is not
an inherited trait
devoid of all emotions
we choose to survive
it might be a knife
to the back
or a bullet
in between eyes
but we all will choose
certain certainty

goodness is not
an inherited trait
we are awake at night
because
we close our eyes
when we get
too close to
the sun

they have taken my words
and minced them up
in front of me
this is a familiar hell
this oubliette, this hole
this ******* landfill
of words and words and
words have
lost meaning, lost color
as little by little
i am pulverized
to grain, to salt, to dust
over and over again
over and over again
over and over again

i would like to run away
far from the bogged down
existence i have made
sell my clothes, my hair
sell my words still
dipped in my blood
i’d use the money and
board a train, a ship, a plane
**** it, i’ll move to an island
everywhere’s an island
if i tell no one where i am

show me the evidences
of your devotion, your love
i want to trace the veins
of regret, of anguish
in your poetry
in your pillowcase
in your head
open up the locked drawer
where you kept the proof
that i am yours
give me a centimeter
of the reality you lived in
where i was without
but kept within

if you called me
right now
this very second
this very second
this very second—-
why aren’t you calling?

you could have
(insert verb here)
instead you did
nothing
do you know what’s
worse?
i could have too

the worst
has happened
i no longer
know
who you are

i find with surprise
red wine is sweet
paired with the
absence of you
it sits on my tongue
soft like a kiss
solemn like a prayer
my thirst, my hurt
is soothed
completely

the letters used to taste vanilla sweet
they now stick in my throat cloyingly
it is so hard to pronounce,
a four syllable reminder of you
the shape of your name
has its edges sharpened
has its corners sticking out

(my mouth moves to kiss the air before tugging
the corners of my mouth back into a sneer
then i open my mouth twice, chomping
at the ends of your name, ending in a scream)

i used to trace it nightly
the slopes of your initials in my palms -
it was a river bend in its grace
it was a story in gentle motion
it was daybreak with lilac skies

now, your name is stuck in my throat
refuses me relief, refuses me reprieve
in a decade, in a second
perhaps then it will stop hurting
and yet the thought of that scares me
i want your name to hurt -
it is, i think, some semblance of love
i want to choke in it before i give it up

you’re spoiling me
my insides and guts in disarray
yellow fungi, can’t you see?
cover every word i say

to you, this is preservation
keeping things in standstill
to me, this is degradation
going bad so slowly kills

see the thin white maggots lie
and how they happily feast upon
the meaty flesh of you and i
is this still part of all the fun?

i want to pick us up
and push us back into a year
but i have a strange feeling
we would still end up here
this is why they call it a tragedy
the end was always clear

i had a dream - you and i
were forty-ish in a room
stuck at some premiere,
maybe yours, maybe mine
our eyes would meet
and i think, or maybe i hope
neither of us would look away
and you would finally smile
and i would smile
and that would be enough

i think i’m better than this
lying in a hole next to the ditch
so now, i’m going to write you
relentlessly
i’m going to put my pen to the paper
and make you ******* bleed
did you think you’ve heard the last of me?
baby, i’m just starting
i think i’m going to write a story
where you and i get to kiss
before i leave you, leave you, leave you
in the footnotes, in the margins
squish your ******* heart
into the ink

you don’t have to ask
it’s one of those things
we learn in school
you know, fun facts?
a scorpion stings,
the sky is blue,
and i love you
and i love you

sometimes denying you
the thing you want
even when it kills me
brings me a singular joy -
i can say no to you
i can hurt you too
inflicting pain is something
both of us can do
isn’t it ****** up
that i am only at peace
if you are dying with me too?
this persistent voice
wanting to hurt you
as much as you did me
is louder than i thought
it should scare me
but i am tired of trying
to deny
that it does not hurt
that you did not hurt
you did, you did, you did
you can’t tell me this isn’t love
why else would it hurt this much?

the world is quiet whenever i cry
i could hear the birds, the leaves
falling softly to the ground
a sort of drunken lullaby

you don’t need to go there
you don’t need to open
every door that your mind
takes you to
you don’t need to do this
the labyrinthian musings
you don’t need to be
a snake eating its own tail
you don’t have to seek
paths no one else
has been back from
lay your head on my lap
let your worries fall off
your shoulders
i will braid you a story
that has a ribboned end
and you will be able to sleep
at last

i don’t understand
why doesn’t anyone want me?
i have a body ready to be carted
i have a soul ready to be juiced
my back is tired from the constant
push and pull, pull and push
this has been more than enough
i don’t understand it
i am a willing participant
to the exploitation
you don’t even need to ask
my mouth is already open
i am dying to be used
pulverize me into a husk
empty out my emotions
you will have no regrets with me
i can be a good machine

it’s a heavy feeling
wanting to die
i get wrapped up in it
caught in the rain with it
buried six feet under it
it’s a heavy feeling
when it is just me
and this
pounding, screeching
in my head:
how could there be
any space for my living
when already
i am holding hands
with my death?

i hope she soothes you
menthol cool in the summer heat
her words should be honeyed, syrupy
enough to make you sweet

i hope she holds you
gentle like a slow river bend
her hands must be soft and dainty
her voice must be heaven sent

i hope she loves you
enough to rebuild earth’s gravity
shakes its core, halts its orbit
a love that changes reality

i hope she forgives you
endlessly, for every mistake
you deserve to be adored
a love that melts to your taste

you know my weak spots
you know my bones
and the closet where i hide them
you know my haunted land
every twist, every corner
because i showed them all
to you
so do me a favor -
bury the map
and i’ll
bury the lede
let’s just call it quits

i am standing on the ledge
the precipice presses
on the soles, in the soul
and chills me to the bone
i am standing on the ledge
and i am about to jump
into the unknown, evergreen
thoughts of mine flourish in
the inky, lonely midnight
i am standing on the ledge
if i look back, if i could turn
you and a hundred thousand people
stare at me, waiting
for me to flail, to fail, to fall
i am standing on the ledge
there is no safety net,
no wires connected to a pole
no helmet placed on my head
this is how i know it will be painful
i am standing on the ledge
there are no constraints,
no mistakes yet shackled to my belt
but the wide, glittering skyline before me
is how i know it will be glorious
i am standing on the ledge
my knees forward, my heart -
a clever, fragile thing - beats
strongly and reminds me i am alive
i jump -

there is something soft
in the way pain heals
how a fresh wound
hardens like a shield
and in time
blooms into new skin
how a purple bruise
reminds in its familiarity
that it will be alright
like it has been alright
so many times before
there is something gentle
in the way pain heals
how the heart is a muscle
that can be fatigued
that can be broken
and in time
be renewed

the trouble with friends
from what i’ve learned is
that often they only eat
in a table you’ll need
an invitation to

graciously, you must
accept the request
as if your stomach wasn’t
desperately craving
hunger devouring you

remember to be
inoffensive, tasteful
make yourself palatable
don’t forget the garnish -
only then their dinner’s served

i know this is overwhelming
but what else can you do?
you do not want them to
chew and spit you out -
you want to be digested

laughter is now empty
how the voice shakes
vibrating in the air
marking the territory

there are a
million, million things to do
there is nothing i can do
but wait for you to
wake up instead

silence is overbearing
but what can words do
but make things worse?

falling in love is
a little death
the chaos of its creation
revels in the
confusion which
bursts into brilliant white
then comes its
pseudo infinite life span
the way i think it will go
on and on and on
but really it ends
with a whimper and
a quietness
that marks its
last exhale

this afternoon's rainfall
reminded me of
the start of september
i remember -
the barely there glimmer
of the end or the beginning
though i could never tell the difference
the long, unbending river
of goodbyes i left drowning
in between the truth and lies
the simple quietness, the whisper
of my house, my room, my mind
as all stare back at me
watching me, no -
daring me
to fly

what i've noticed is
love usually simmers into a boil
the heat of it becomes
bubbly laughter, its warmth is the
evaporation of the senses
its result fogs up my lenses
until all i can see is the smoke
then if i want, i could either
bring it down and let it cool
or let it reach a fever pitch
and watch it overflow
and instead of filling in the shape
it breaks the container it was in
it takes a while for me to decide
whether i got burnt
or have become alive

i think you can dilute me
in the southwest monsoon
that buries the city in july
i let the gray rainfall
choke me, drown me
until all my colors have
bled through me

i think i can dilute me
and make me easier
tolerable for you
to drink up, to love
there is nothing more i want
consume me, renew me
make me water in your hands

i think there are other people
out there, waiting for me
but i don’t want to wait for them
when i have waited so long for you
so just dilute me, **** me
let me be a chasm
and fill me up, up, up

i think you can make me
into someone you will miss

i hope you

- lick rust, get tetanus, and die
- forget your keys in the car
- step on glass, get a foot infection, and die
- get a mind-numbing toothache from 11 PM to 2 AM
- get stuck in space with your oxygen running out
- never find someone who matches your freak
- compute your GPA and realize you’re a few points away from getting Latin honors
- choke on boba
- get bitten by an unidentified venomous snake and you don’t have access to the antidote so you slowly die
- get CC’ed on a HR email before you clock off
- time travel, get stuck in the 1800s, and die from cholera
- trip on your shoelaces and land on dogshit
- never find the other sock
- are the last person alive in a zombie-filled apocalyptic wasteland
- miss me

your sweatshirt
socks
my copy of Hunger Games you spilled juice on
rain-drenched Sambas
a navy blue comforter
your backpack full of ants
my sweatshirt
thrifted sheets of music with suspicious brown spots
a couple of DVDs we washed, thinking it would make them work again
your old Nokia
a pack of cigarettes
torn-up black stockings
polaroids to make that blurred effect
me

plant your sorrows into my earth
and i will bear the sweetest fruit
the summer sun marks our rebirth
teeth bared, feline-like in her pursuit

when time sits with me comfortably
i forget i was ever thirteen - even twenty
she is someone i can barely hold
her laughter is made of stuff purer than precious gold

when time sits with me comfortably
i despair at the thought of being thirty
she is someone i can barely hold
her dreams are the dinner table food i left out and gotten cold

when time sits with me comfortably
i feel like i am choking from inside out, endlessly
but to think on it too much makes the suffering unending
and before i sleep, i think what i feel isn’t pain but understanding

i open my mouth
to taste the rain
and pretend that is you
i am not cold, i am not wet
i am covered in you

a tiny thing, a little cat
brings me little treasures
things she has caught
but i don't want them
i have already closed
the worn-out kitchen door

it leaves its little presents
by the doorframe
i watch her leave them
and wait for me
to arrive, to praise her
like i have done before

she sees me by the window
i see her confused little face
i turn away, close the shades
and she does not leave
and i do not leave
and i do not open the door

you don't know how much love I can give
you worry about the abyss, the dark
you worry no one will remember you
but I have written you into everything
your eyes, the way they see
your mouth, the way it speaks

you don't know how much love I can give
if you let me trace you, then put you on paper
if you let me, I will leave behind enough words
for them to see your shape, your soul  
you have nothing to be anxious about
because
I will write you
I will love you
until the bittersweet end.

this is how much love I can give:
everything I have done, have written
is for you
and this love will be left behind
and you, my love, will be remembered
sleep quietly tonight