As I walk,
I feel a pain
In my arm
As worms feed on muscle.

As I drive,
I hear the roars
Of agony
As my soles bleed on rubble.

As I drop
My head on my counter,
I feel blood trickle
As silence fills my lungs.

Faster, and faster still,
I fall,
As these sharp winds
Leave my body wrung.

A boldened king
Shall take his stand
In a kingdom to be broken.
The fate holds true
For whistling winds’
Prophecy was spoken.
The southern prince
Will turn to face
The fort of his own land.
Though he stood tall
He’d surely fall
And perish by Earth’s hand.
In his absence
His place is claimed
As to the Earth he’s bound.
And much like his kingdom’s future,
True,
His body shant be found.

In the dark typhoon, swayed a dark dark house.
In the dark monsoon, flew the dark dark mouse.
Below dark dark clouds, people scream and shout,
And by the 12th hour, noon, is when the Sun comes out.

In the light, you see rubble, and the people all dead.
On a tree that had fallen, lies a small mouse head.
Through the wind left behind, you hear what the house said
As its boards were all torn from beneath its beds.

You hear the creaking and wailing of nails, screws, and springs
Which escape from their places, among other things.
They escape through the windows, and break their panes too,
And as the whistling fell silent,
All left now,
Is you.

I have a bin,
A bin,
A bin of every wish.

Every wish I’ve had,
Every wish sin-clad,
And every wish sung bis.

My wishes are all
So selfish,
For I only wish
To learn
What I would become
When every written page
I’ve read is ever burned.

I’ve wished for life,
I’ve wished for death,
I’ve wished to see
A final breath
Escape the lungs
Of those I love
Just to see if I
Would cry.
I wish that I
Would die.

I toss my thoughts,
My dreams,
My sins,
To join my ever-
Filling bin.

I toss them all,
All to become
My own ideal eye.
I wish that I
Would die.

And though I banish
All of the thoughts
That endanger me
By existing,

A voice that sounds
Just like my own
Persists on its insisting.

I cannot cry
Or spare a sigh
For indifference
Consumes me so.

In face of fear,
Unlike a deer,
I’ll die
With my eyes shut closed.
A surely, I’ll never know.
Surely.

You silence my thoughts
As trains reach their stations.
You hold my hand still,
Though I miss the relation
Of your presence that calms me,
To my head falling down
From its place in the clouds
When you are around.

So I’ll lie in this grass
With my eighteen trains running,
And you’ll occupy five,
The rest, practically nothing.
So I’ve picked up my pen
Due to three and four’s calling,
Then suddenly down,
My trains begin falling.

They stop one by one,
As I see you approaching.
I take off my beanie
In this moment, engrossing.
You lie down next to me
And you give me a “Hi."
As a smile plagues my face
And I give you a sigh.
“Howdy.”