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Penne 7d
Rough, sandy
Malodors of Brandy
Unlimited space
Yet strangling

Dark, hollow
Look again
Fell deep in the hole
Cannot breathe in this loophole

Wind wafting through its cardboard
The more I think about it
The cooler it gets

I had one similar
When I was just a mere familiar
Horsing around it as if it was my home
What made it comfortable
It was always locked
It was always not a liar

It was better than anyone
I do not know what kind of sorcery it used
But it always eased my fuse
When I am confused, in a ruse
I can breathe after all

You can imagine anything there
Flap its sides as if you are in a plane
You can paint animals, forests anytime
Unlike reality

Turn it into castle
Or a storage of treasure
A hideout
Military base
Safe and sound

Quiet, does not shout
Does not turn angry
Cut, it will not yell
Not misunderstanding
Attachment syndrome with a non-living thing
So are these ghosts surrounding

My philosopher's brain is no match for society
Add that with my dash of absolutism
I played along with the appropriatey

But why, did it betray me now?
The more I stayed
The more I get scared
Tsunami of bad dreams slapped me
Cannot get out
But nowhere to shelter to

Feeling I do not need aid
It is better to sabotage my faith
On my own
Than admitting that I am terrified
Sensitive like the morning flower
Than to be hurt by the outside
Than involving anyone
Since everybody around me are dunces

So stay
Once more
Get this occupied
Even if it is already roaring to break free

Where no one will see me
See me be myself
Abnormal self
Weeping, childish self
And come back again and again
Penne 7d
I know
I know what is right from wrong
But I do not know why I keep doing it for so long
For the millionth time
I know

Why do you do it too
If you know that it is wrong
'Cause it is what everybody does?
I have eyes too
I can imitate that
I can reciprocate all that
Future generations can

We are fine not changing this rotten world
We are fine following the crowd
We are fine living in these dying cerebrums

Blame me
For my cowardice
For I am an absolutist
Love the subtlety
If I am fighting for something
I should not be hiding behind my screens

I know
I am illogical
Out of my head
But re-check yourself if you had one too

I know
We are all humans
And I honestly hate that philosophy
Since all we do is escape that futility
And choose social mutiny
Desenthesize us, realists and freaks' mentality
Instead of unity
Please, more fatalities

But it feels good, right?
To let yourself in irrationality
Since this is not pretty
So is reality
Especially when they desire change
But on the inside, they are afraid
I know
Art cannot be political

To fight against the atmosphere
I know
You have all the time in your life
To sin, then regret
Mistakes flow me!
And may regret do the same thing

I know
I know

But before you point your finger
Why not point yourself too

It feels good to be wrong (but not right)
Penne Jan 29
Waking up to dawn
To see you stand on the lawn
Your details are to be fawn

Universe does not exist when you are around
Every moment and memory is spellbound
A new side of me has found
As you lift me up from the ground

I cannot remember
If we really met in November or December
I must be in a deep slumber

Your touch is a revel
My heart is a rebel
Fruit not in level
Your orbs are to marvel

The sand on our feet when we strolled on the beach
The waves splash in peach
Like each other's leech
Like me who wish to reach

Wonder is our niche
Not that it is cliche
But true
As my love for you

The skies become lighter
The room gets brighter
The nature seems richer
Life is smoother

Bouncing in clouds
Chasing the moon
Floating in rounds
Body swoons

Only one who fights my gray
Who lights up my day
As we fly away
To the fields of May
As I lay and pray

My strings went from none to beyond
Feelings about to be bond
Flame tames down
Waking up to dawn
To only find you gone
Just had an idea if Eurydice never got a happy ending with Orpheus. I guess this is how it is told in a more modern way.
Penne Jan 22
Peeling off my layers
In front of you in the ***** glazers
No blazers
Oh, anxiety grows in the air
Can I now retreat to my normal flair?
Before I opened bare
My body sheltered in shame
Tasted lame
Ruined a good name
Mind gambling in games
Hands twitch and fidget
Into directions anyone cannot forget
Warmth is not enough
To smoothen the roughs
If I cannot withstand all the melodrama,
Can you be my anesthesia?
Since exists in my head is an everlasting psychedelia
Tiptoeing on shards of firearms
May I weep in your frail arms?
Do it mean harm?
Will my skin not switch into a smoke alarm?
Will I be able to be vulnerable?
Defenseless surrender
Before the wars turn into murders
And not alter to *****
When nowhere left to release the fumes
When to breathe as a chrysanthemum
When I still cannot find an asylum?
Defeating my memoir
In the phase of searching a livewire
Since I lived once in a birdhouse
Where it is already wall-tight and always a full house
I know I am afraid, for no correct steps are laid
I am already a regret
Now, do not fret
Exhibiting my secret is equal to losing to an opponent
Faith to me is blind
Especially when you are not in right mind
Penne Jan 22
Song of the nightingale
Mixes my ****** ale
Sink faucet water drops
Mirror props
No one to cuddle in these idle hours
My esteem tastes sour
My heart, it shrank
My eyes, they sank
In this frigid dark
It is not pain
It is not lame
View these as plain
For me, I feel like I am to be blamed
How to mouth an emotion
When my mind is not in motion
My body in supine position
****** my heart strings
Can you still hear them tugging, running
Because I cannot
My ears must be deafened by the waves
The only sound right now is the metronome in the monochrome
My silhouette dancing in this lone haze
Touch me, I fracture
How to not be unfazed
When I am born with a daze
Do I still remember the days
When I do not wake up in this blank  gaze
Bypass me as a slate
Think until I used up space
Draws my face
Even when there are a lot swimming this way
I am faltering, fading away
In these invisible blows
That keep getting close
When I want them to be far away
Yet the holes are nowhere
Yet the roots are null
Dew's breath caress through my skull
In what way to lull
Who knows
What tomorrow holds
For I am idling in hours
Penne Jan 20
Hold my glass
Even if it is my third, sixth time whatever to take the mic
I feel a catharsis coming up
Why people need to take away my one and only guilty pleasure
What is wrong with reading
And writing tales in my phone?
Do you think I do not learn anything from them?
Not all writings are fruitless
I am better than people who uses chapels as an internet cafe
They scroll mindlessly in their news feeds
Pardon your brainless child, God
But I find chapels peaceful
Your presence alone sings with tranquility
And when it does, countless thoughts form in my head
I cannot sleep in day nor night as long as I do something about them
So with my fingers, I type
So with my pen, I dance
Even if I sound like a kid who rants a lot in the internet
Even if I am still immature for the matures
Even if I am still a novice to this billion-year old planet
Even if I am perturbed in whether publishing them or not
But to facticity
When I was a mere seedling
I am always obscured
I did not lend my mouth to those who are in my age and even out of age that I find low-leveled to me
I have no one to talk to but myself
At least that is what my ghost processed
I am not good at anything except for swordfighting
It helped me unleash the monsters I have been not willing to let anyone see
I am already abused for having a distorted mentality
Now I am being abused by distorted reality
Oh, am I haughty yet?
Pardon my noisy, sleepless mind
That will not let me speak out loud
If you disgrace reading, try slowly, little by little first
I am telling you, it is a nice picturesque to be in
Paint your own scenery
Contemplate the unheard
Dance with any melodies of art
Even if it is not by a stylus
So tell me, why do I deserve that preaching
When there are worse than me
Have I done something to wreck your life
Have I done a huge, lawless crime
When I am just sitting through the Holy silence with a book in my mind
Penne Jan 20
Once there was a lass
Planted into a mysterious world
Does not know where to go, how to go
Three lights later, she was found
But it is not the kind of found she desires
Is there even a reason of existence
You want her to question about her sanity
Question about impossibility
Question what is underneath
Question what is on the other side
Do you think to look smart
Or do you think because you want to be mentally deranged
Does being a product mean,
To look unique, to look you know a lot more than anyone
Because insane is the new gain
Insane is the pain
Insanity is my oxygen
Does this look art to you
Just simply spilling her emotions and rants
But in reality she done nothing
So how come you label her as a product?
Everyday, questioned herself if she is even of worth
No matter where angles of skies she looked at , no answers burst
If she was born to be secluded
Does that mean she is out of this world
If she thinks differently
Does she have to change the world?
Should she be drowned in the pills of schizophrenia
To define what real art is?
To defy reality?
Is this enough
If not, then what am I
If not a product, then what
I disgrace sycophants and know-it-alls alike
Except for lucid and heavy dreamers for life
Are we bore to create a fantasy
Or altogether fall with this society
Does living in nomothethic oceans is a mistake
Talk about limitless yet senseful imagery
Chatter away with debates that activate logic which I do not have
What is more likely to balance
When there is a whole solar system to laugh at you
No, I should see more light
But what light shall I find
I do not know what is the real definition of every little thing
But I worry and think of them
They say it is the beauty
What beauty
Underneath or above
Which one did you admire first?
Do I have to question my faith
Do I have to question everything around me
Should I speak like Shakespeare
Should I speak colorful in my own language  than the language that became my mother's tongue
Should I write like an endless dictionary and a multi-faced human
Should I count every star accurately until the fall wither me
Or produce sounds alive like the city of owls
Should I make every human being smile when I cannot smile myself
Should I feel nothing but sadness for eternity
To pity me when I weave with words
Should I play like Arima
Should I paint like a museum artist
Just to call me a talent
Should I perfect my skills of every labor
Should success appear to me like magic
Should I explain the unexplainable
Or should I damage my cerebrum
Before I truly feel intelligent
Should I dance my life away like the Black Swan
Should I be tearing down politicians and teachers
Just to feel worthy
Just to be recognized in the light I desire
Or should I just look in the mirror
To check if my blood veins are still flowing
Real blood, not just veins of vain
Inhaling all the smoke of envy
I sin
I am flawful
I breathe in gold
Just to realize it is old
Just to realize my self-redeement is stone cold
Will you love and be deserved by light like that
Will you realize everyone who reads this has been **** as well
Will you realize I am not writing about myself
But what we are all afraid to admit the most
Because you are only a person
And once there was an abnormal lass
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