I worry as if the iced tea I'm drinking
Is my own life itself.
I ponder how long it would last?
Not that I care about my life that much
But hell, that's such a good fruit tea.

The pearly gates aren’t white.
Nor golden, for that matter.
I ponder if they’re even there.
One thing for sure is that
They’re black.
As black as Shachath’s onyx wings.
Open your eye, my dear.
Your eye with the mark of the falcon.
I whisper your name so softly
As my voice gets lost in the sea of desperation.
The hours are too loud
And the seconds too bright.
I want to see if you would let me in.
You were there when I was born.
You were there when Azareal kissed for the first time.
You were there as I took my first breath.
I can hear the ravens caw
Like an alarm clock, but reversed,
Telling me to sleep.
Because The Dreaming and The Shadowless Fields are just a door away.
The door where I’m standing at right now.
The door only her sigil can open.

I should have known.
I should have known that
Happiness is a gift,
A genetic mutation,if you ask me,
That I'd never know
How that feels like
Just like what music is
To a deaf person.
Tricked by my own mind,
My heart fell into the trap
That I set myself,
Let myself believe
That everything's alright.
Nothing is alright.
Nothing is fine at all.
Its all falling apart
And I've been refusing
To see the ruins
In order to spare myself some pain.
If only I knew,
If only I realized that
Everything looks more joyous
When you look at them
With your eyes closed.

The midnight sky is dark;dark as a bottomless pit.
But I wonder if it would be as dark as that darkness that's been residing in my soul

I can hear the voices wispering in my head. I can hear them singing. Or are they screaming? I think I'd never know.

The knives are sharp. They cut holes in my heart. It bleeds everytime it beats. It hurts even when I'm asleep.

I feel the walls closing in. I know its only a matter of time before they crush my soul. I tried to stop them but who am I to have the power to do so?

I cannot breathe. The shadows of reality are smothering me. My lungs are filling up with black waters. I can feel my life fade away as I drown in sorrow.

There used to be light inside my eyes. They used to sparkle with hope. Now all I can see are two black souless holes when I look in the mirror.

"Will this ever end?", I wonder,"Will there ever be a way out?" Maybe the pain is the key to the door. Maybe this is a stepping stone. Or maybe this is how it's supposed to end.

Repeat.
Just once more,you have to repeat.
Just once more and you can stop.
Repeat.
One more tic and it'll be gone.
Just one more and it'll be all.
Repeat.
You don't have to listen to anything but this.
Don't you follow any order but your own.
Repeat.
The sun doesn't matter
Nor does the rain.
All you have to do is repeat.
Repeat.
you don't need to sleep.
All that matters is that you repeat.
Repeat.
For you promise that this will be the last.
For you convince yourself that this will be the last.
Repeat.
For you never keep your promises well.
For you know you'll do it again.
Repeat.
All you have to do is repeat.
All you will do is repeat.
For son, you are a prisoner of your own body.
So,repeat.
Just repeat.

I hit the big red reset button,
Hoping it would blow my head up
And replace it with a bouquet of violet tulips just because.
Happiness is a bubble soaring up into the sky,
An outburst of cheer and starry nights.
It was just that
I was too foolish to believe
That I could be the little child in the tub again.
My eyes got lost in the
Tiny whisper that comes from the back of my mind.
Saying “I’m still here”,
Reminding me of what I am which is what it is which is what we are.
And it’d be absurd if I said some scars never fade
Because either all scars fade
Or the memories of them do.
And I hit the big red reset button,
Denying the fact that it’d all be the same again.

When I said I wanted to die,
I didn’t mean I wanted to die.
I don’t want to die.
I just want a way out.
I am lying on my bed
As if I am dead with my eyes open.
I don’t know how much time has passed.
All I can feel is the coldness
That is flowing from my eyes
To the ears, whispering to me to
Never get up, that I can’t get up.
I’m holding my heart like a balloon
And I’m walking through the garden of thorns
Fertilized by their words.
My fingers are a gun
That I use to exorcise the pain away
With the placebo bullets that leave scars on my arms.
I am here but
My mind is held hostage
In the prison built with
Their staring eyes.
So I am here lying lifeless,
Praying I would wake up soon.

Beauty is the sky filled with dark clouds.
Beauty is the black birds swooning across the black sky.
Beauty is the moths rocketing themselves to their death.
Beauty is the cigarette smoke that has escaped my lungs.
Beauty is those amber red leaves falling from the trees.
Beauty is the claustrophobia that suffocates me when I'm alone in my bed.
Beauty is the phone that hasn't rung for months.
Beauty is the ***** of empty papers in the bin.
Beauty is the  voices bleeding from your daily fights that have become white noises to my ears.
Beauty is the creature I see everytime I look in the mirror.
Beauty is the cruel daggers that you whisper into my ears.
Beauty is the blisters on my knuckles I got from punishing the wall for your sins.
Beauty is the scratches on my arms.
Beauty is the pills that numb the pain in my soul.
Beauty is Morpheus,the only friend who's around to help me through the torments of my life.
Beauty is the razor that has been hiding in the mess on my desk for months now.
Beauty is death herself.
Beauty is life.

I am standing at the door.
I am staring at the door.
I don't know what's on the other side of the door.
And I don't want to know.
But I want to open the door.
But I can't.
I look behind me and see my life.
I see my life that's calling at me.
I see failure and I see joy.
Both of them make me want to turn the ****.
I reach out to the door and I stop.
My body is paralyzed, my mind gone.
My mind is gone.
Where is my mind?
Somebody help me find my mind.
My body is paralyzed.
My eyes are fixed at the door.
I am too scared to turn the ****.
For some reasons, the door opens itself.
I gaze right through it.
I see nothing but I see everything.
There is nothing but there is everything.
Its pitch black darkness shine so bright that it blinds me.
I look back again and its raining.
On the other side, it snows.
I love snow and I hate rain.
But don't I hate snow and don't I love rain?
What do I like? What do I not?
The door is open, I take a step forward.
Fear overwhelms my body and I take a step back.
John screams from the distance, Don't go.
I don't want to,John but I do.
I face the door again and feel a breeze.
It brushes my face and soothes my soul.
But somehow the pleasure turns into pain.
I'm too scared to go in, I'm too scared to turn back.
The ground beneath me starts shaking.
The mirrors in the room shatter.
And the shards fly right towards me.
Each of them singing my favourite song.
Do they hit me, do they cut me?
I don't know.
But I am standing at the door.
I am staring at the door.
And the door is staring right back at me.

If you've ever had dreams,
Don't ever underestimate them.
Because dreams are
Just a step away from reality.
And reality is a mere metaphor.
What's real is not real and
What's not real is also not real.
There is no line or border
That his grains of sand cannot cross.
I heard the cartoon dinosaur on the ceiling gossip
That I was going crazy.
But the crumbs of the chocolate croissant I ate in my dreams
Are the proof of my sanity.
I sometimes wish I could have nightmares instead
Because at least in nightmares,
I would still be able to be scared.

Words become meaningless as I mutter them for the 14th time.
I’m building a tower of alphabets
So that I can jump to my own death from it.
I can feel my heartstrings
Get tightened.
My mind slowly drifts to home
As the line between the two demons grow thinner.
But I don’t know if I still have a home
Because even my body has stopped
Being my heart’s home.
So I just blink my eyes one more time,
Hoping I will never have to open them ever again.

*******.
That's the name you call yourself.
That's the name we call ourselves.
Darkness is all around you.
It fogs your eyes and it blocks your smile.
But that doesn't mean you can't smile,you smile.
You smile your weak smile.
And deep inside that smile of yours, I can see a heart of gold.
A heart of gold sunken deep in a pool of troubled waters.
A heart of gold surrounded by black clouds so that no one could see.
A heart of gold hidden behind the rocks that life throws at you so that you couldn't see.
You try so hard fighting off your demons and that helps me.
Seeing you fight gives me strength.
When they see you, they see a girl with a face.
I see your demons. I see the war.
The war will never end I reckon because it never does. It never will.
But at least we will survive until we die if we just hold on to each other.

Black hands grasp her heart.
She sits still.
The silence in her heart deafens her.
She sits still.
The darkness devours her.
She sits still.
She is trapped.
She sits still.
She sees everything falling apart.
She sits still.
Her world crumbles before her eyes.
She sits still.
She knows she has to sit still.
She sits still.
She sits still.
In the end, she sits still.

I had a dream.
I was scratching my eyes out.
I was breaking my arms.
I was cutting my ears off.
I was hurting.
But I remember being happy.
I can still feel the pain buried in my psyche.
But the joy no more.
Now that I'm awake,
I have to see the fingers you're pointing at me.
Now that I'm not asleep,
I have to punch at the walls again.
Now that I'm not dreaming,
I have to hear the words you say.
Now that I'm alive,
I have to carve myself up again.
If anyone asks me,
I'd rather be trapped in that mutilating nightmare for eternity
Than spend another night with you.

Is it the sun that I'm seeing?
Or is it just the flickering light bulb hanging from my ceiling?
For some, this is the beginning of the day
For some, this is the end.
For me, all I can hear is the ticking sound of the second hand.
Seconds feel like hours and hours, seconds.
I hear the rain drizzling along the window, composing melodies as it goes.
Except that there's only the leaky sink and empty walls.
They dance around the corner of my eyes, pretending that they're not shadows.
But I am no fool.
The floor, it's velvet.
Its soft hands embrace my soul everytime I take a step.
I smile as I look back and see my ****** footprints.
He says it's time for bed.
But I don't ever really sleep, do I?
Not in this house.
For my eyes have already found refuge in the walls.

Is it possible for a heart to die
While a person is still alive?
I can feel the chains tighten
Around my heart
With each word you mutter.
Your velvet hands
Smother me so tenderly
In the name of Love
That I cry my hate out.
My arms feel wooden
Dancing along your golden strings,
Stabbing my soul in the neck
Exactly five times
Because that is your favorite number.
I stare at the foot of my bed
For God knows how long
Hoping there’s a monster in the closet.
But there’s only you,
Singing me my lullaby.
And I will sleep.
I will sleep because my body is giving out.
I will sleep because in the morning,
You will smile again.
Because in the morning,
I will pretend this was a dream again.

3am. 2 hours till dawn. 3 hours after midnight.
They sleep. I'm awake. I'm awake and I'm fighting. I'm fighting with myself.

3 am. 2 hours. 3 hours.
Please stop. I beg you please. Please just stop. I'm too tired. I'm too tired of this.

3 am. 2 hours. 3 hours.
Numbers are beautiful. So are words. They flood my brain, they fly around it flapping their black wings.

3am. 2 hours. 3 hours.
Three. Two. Three.
Three. Two. Three.
Three.
Three.
Two.
Please stop three.

3 am. 2. 3 hours.

"Youre making too much noise, we cant sleep". You cant just sleep. I can't breathe. Can't  you see that I can't breathe?


Three. Three. Two.
Three. Two . Three.


3am. 2 hours till dawn. 3 hours after midnight.
It's too loud please stop. I don't want to do this anymore, please stop.


3 am. 2 hours.  3 hours.
I look at the razors, I stare at the door. I remember the days when my mind was still silent.


Three. Two. Three.
I'm reading. I'm remembering. I'm reading. I'm remembering. Will I remember?  Will I be remembered?

3am. Two hours. Three hours.
Bells start ringing in my head. My heart is racing,my body shaking. Three two three.


3am. Two. Three hours.
I cant smile. I can't cry. Because when I do, you'd just think I'm trying to justify. I'm not trying to justify. I just want you to know that I'm not trying to justify. Justify. Justify. Justify.


5 am. Dawn. 5 hours after midnight.
Another day. More suffering. More words. More numbers. More hours.

Three. Five. Two. Five. Zero. Zero.
Lord help me, zero.

Love is a strange thing.
It makes you do stupid things; unspeakable things.
Worst of all, it gives you hope.
Or more accurately, false hope.
For nineteen years, I sat alone in my room, thinking I was loved.
Maybe what caused the delusion is my success; all the trophies I achieved, all the certificates I received.
But definitely not the diseases.
Definitely not the flaws.
Have you ever sat down and thought what was going on in my mind?
Sure, you'd say you knew everything what's going in my head but do you really?
Do you know how many times I've stabbed myself in the throat in my mind?
Do you know how many times I've tied a noose around my neck?
Do you know how many times I've strangled each and every one of you to death?
No, I don't want to **** you.
I don't want to hate you.
I just want to be loved. I just want to be loved for who I am.
I just want to feel at home at home.
I just want to feel safe.
Being at home is like walking through a haunted mansion with trap doors.
You don't know when you'll trigger a trap that'll shoot tiny darts right into your heart.
As a child, I always wanted to be a superhero; I'd pretend that my life is an origin story of a superhero.
But as it turns out, it's the story of how a hopeful boy turned into a madman who tried to burn the world down.
Yes, I'm a freak, I know that pretty **** well and I don't need you to remind me that.
Do you know how hard it is to just walk straight in public thinking everyone is staring at you?
I just want a sanctuary where I dont have to worry about what people might think of me.
If home is really where the heart is,
Then I dont really have a home.

So I punched the wall again.
For the first time In two months.
The bruises were completely gone just last month.
It was a smart choice I’d say.
The wall was an antidote
And my hand was poison
That I was going to use for them.
Do you know what pain looks like?
It looks like the look in your beautiful mother’s eyes when she’s looking at you.
It looks like the words your father yells at you.
It looks like you singing Sufjan Stevens’ The Only Thing to the all smashed-up package of cigarettes in your hand.
It looks like the ******* bruises on your **** knuckles.
It looks like the ******* scars on your ******* arms that they think are ridiculous.
But it’s not ugly.
Pain is a blessing.
Because it lets you know you’re still human.
Even though everyone treats you like you’re not.

I never understood the idea of masochism.
Not until you came into my life.
I was young when we met.
Now I'm older and wiser and yet, you never really age, it seems.
You're still mischievous and playful as always.
Still playing peek-a-boo with me like a little child.
Some people say you're not a good friend for me.
Some say you're not real.
But I, as your best friend, know that you're very real.
No matter what they say about you, you know that I can never hate you.
No mattter how much you hurt me.
No, I take it back.
You never hurt me.
It's always me who does the beating.
And you, you're just there, watching me.
We're not just friends, or brothers.
We are one.
Although I cannot see you, you're always in my heart.
Your arms wrapping around every part of my body
Like vines on a tree
Hugging me so tightly.
So tightly that I can barely breathe.
And I get scared sometimes.
Especially when you jump out of the darkness to scare me.
But I love you.
And I know you will never leave me.
And I don't think I'd ever be able to leave you.

So,cage me.
Cage me like you always do.
For I will willingly go into the cage.
Like I always do.
The cage is my home.
The loneliness is my friend.
My one true friend.
And I know that you'd let me go again one day.
And I'd think that I'm free again.
Then I'd build a world around me again.
Then I'd find a place where I belong again.
Then you'd tell me to get back into the cage.
Again.
And I will burn my world down again.
And I will burn the bridges again.
And I will go home again.
And I will be home again.
And I will be alone again.
So, cage me.
For I like it there.

Another word gets lost in my throat,
Ravaged by the blindness
That my heart conjured up.
All I can hear is the devil
Whispering into my ear,
Saying “just one more” amidst the white noise of a room of a hundred people.
Every letter starts dissolving
Into my coffee,
Slowly drifting away into the meaningless impulse.
My lungs are congested,
Carrying all the lust I smoked.
There’s a black plastic bag around my head,
Defying all the rules of the universe,
Making sure that I see nothing
But numbers and words and
Whatever you call that is.
Whatever you call that is.
Whatever you call that is.

Aliens are real.
At least I like to believe it that way
Because the idea of loneliness terrifies me.
But I dont ever want to find out that
They exist for real
Because that would make them real
And if they're real, I'm going be lonely again.
They're just going to be ignored like
The rest of the 7 billion people
That I pretended don't exist.
I want them to be real just the way
The cigarette smoke that would
Disappear right after the moment it was created is real.
So, please, Extraterrestrials, be real for me.
And leave me alone
So that I wouldn't be alone.

Days and nights fuse into one
And prayers divide into two
Like a tree would sing to a canary
At three in the morning.
The night marked its reign
With a light bulb that had died.
Then it plagued a boy's mind
With a cup of tea his mother didn't make.
And once the séance has begun,
We all know it will never end.

It’s ironic how
Emptiness can occupy such a large place
As a human heart.
It’s anatomically and medically and probably physically impossible
But it is somehow possible.
There’s no way I can prove it but  
It’s there.
You feel the nothingness spreading its roots in your heart.
And you feel every inch of the pain they inflict
You feel its wicked wings shooting its sharp feathers,
Cutting each and every one of the heartstrings in the most
Inhuman way possible.
You want to cry but
The null has consumed
The last drop of the
Tears of emotion you have left.
Even if you are a Houdini at the art of escaping,
How do you escape the perfect trap that you set yourself?

"I know everything that's going on inside your head."
But do you,really?
Because if you really did, you wouldn't even say that out loud.
Because if you really did, you would welcome me with your arms wide open instead.
Because what's going on inside my head is a big mass of double-edged daggers flying around in a whirlpool of acid,cutting through every part of my body around it.
How could you understand what's in my mind when the problem is that my own mind is against my body?
When my spirit is burnt down to ashes by infernal flames?
Did you know how painful it is when your words cut through my eyes like razors?
It hurts so much that I cannot see anything clearly anymore.
I'm not blind yet I cant see any light in this world anymore.
My world right now is a dark abyss and the floor is lava and im walking blind on it.
Love and hate is only a step away and you're pushing me across the border.
I love you so **** much that I want to **** myself.
You love me, I know.
But it's not this imperfect creature that you truly love.
It was the program you coded in it.
In a way, you love the machine inside me and not me.
You said im isolating myself from everyone including you.
But how could I not isolate myself from you when all you do is push me away whenever I try?
But know that I will love you until the very last breath I take.
Even if it's the one I'm taking right now.

The air is lava.
And time is a slow death.
I'm tap dancing on the road
With icicles as my feet.
No, this is not running, this is swimming.
Swimming inside the eyeball
Of a celestial nightmare.
The house is a gas chamber
In the disguise of a bakery.
Who would have known
That empty little words
Can cause chest wall contusions.
****** is not quite the word I would use.
Because eventually we all
Drink our caramel lattes and
Break God's nose in the end.

I can see them burn;
The eyes of dozens of people.
They burn with enthusiasm to watch me burn.
I’m at stake
With flames on my body;
Flames of hate,
Flames of despise,
Flames of hatred
And flames of pity.
All I want right now is to burn.
Because being burnt is
More pleasant than
Being burnt.
I’m in the middle of the town
Because of my existence.
Because of what I’m born with.
Why do I have to suffer for
Something I didn’t get to choose?
I’ve closed my eyes shut
For all my life
So that they wouldn’t know
They shine a different spectrum.
Not anymore.
I’m letting them shine for
The first and the last time.
I will let them shine for you.
I will burn for you.
I will let them burn me for you.

Now here’s the crazy thing about mental illnesses and poetry.
A pen can be a knife and well,
Vice versa.
Maybe you’d seen me scribbling nonsense on my notes;
Where I should be taking notes instead, mind you.
Believe me, in my mind
I’d have killed everyone in the room,
Maybe including you,
Three times at least
By stabbing them in the eyes
And of course, myself, in the end
By the time I’d have finished the first line.
My mind is a cat that can change its shape.
Sometimes it’s a lazy Persian That wouldn’t get out of its bed
And sometimes it’s a Corgi
That just wouldn’t stop barking.
You must now be thinking
“But Corgi is a dog breed. Aren’t you supposed to be talking about cats?”
Well, and I’m supposed to be out,
Talking to people like everyone else
Instead of complaining here, am I not?
I wish my body was a high school
So that I could report to the principal that
My brain is relentlessly bullying
My heart by making her pay for
Everything that he lacks.