No. I don't think that my Japanese exam tomorrow
Is more important than my soul mending poetry writing night
I can feel the star dust flowing through my eyes
And right now I can feel I need some patching up
Or else I'll dry up.

Something does this to you.
Like the world is some sort of a very strong electric fan
Or a broken air conditioner that causes you cold and flu
And all sorts of energy ******* monster.

But all you need is a poetry night
Just to shine on your thoughts and dance
And remember honeybunch that you
You are a magical flying butterfly that needs it's honey.

I need a new brand of poetry
Because my love letters
Are starting to sound like a broken tape
Or a slap dash suicide note.

I promised myself I won't drink alcohol anymore.
I'm waiting for that day that I'm going to break my promise.

No and my love is never tender
For it's written on rocks
And something written on rocks is never tender
If anything, it is with force and brutality.

And I hope you are okay with that.

But I just don't call my pain, 'ache'.
I call it like how I call my lover
During midnight when everything is so close
Yet so distant and warm.

Here's to the sound of the fan
When everyone's asleep except for my anxiety
And his best friend, obsession.
To the empty glass, old tapes and a cat figurine
I'm nearing my end, so please watch as I go to sleep.

No. We don't stop until we create bruises
On places that should be sacred and holy.