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Mar 2018
Show me your secret notebook
A reef under generic surface of water.

They've cut down my childhood tree
I used to climb.
                                      Pink Skies.



As she was walking away
from a car
The music gradually
Interrupted, like a radio
Losing its signal
And stopped.
S H E ' S H O T

As I drove,
I poured the music
out of the windows,
to mix it with
the sea of night.
Frogs of Winter.






O birds of spring,
You woke up too early,
your songs don't belong
in the winter's cold air.
You should have remained
silent and hidden
in your safe nests

I feel rather like
exploring self-caves,
Dark Mines of mine;
Dissolving under the blanket
of warmth and sickness
With my eyes closed.
(Do I?)
Definetly not fitting the machine.

Double-edged sword.
Endless wrestling with
Ego.
Say hello!



Once again(another day),
One more time,
She drifted into the night
and the music got torn
piece by piece
(Chopin, Nocturne op.9 No.1)
And I(We)
Were left in the brutal cold,
and dark, and silence
(Dead, pinned to the ground,
awaiting.)

     The moment a smile fades
     A switch that changes the masks
     Ancient greek theatre

Oh birds, you've found
Your small place
on a lake that froze
almost entirely.
Rejoy,
O lucky birds!



Veins of the city
remain silent beside us.
Conversations like ash
or leaves, or snow flakes
fall to them and dissolve,
but they don't cease to exist;
Remain hidden.

Old and new Things
got wed in an instant,
like wild thorny
carnivorous plants,
without us noticing;
Beyond the still line of horizon
-outshouted by the
Rush of Society.
Hidden old silent rooms.





I held a pipette
and gently instilled
the tiny sharp
drops of liquid Music
into the chill lake of Night.
They diffused in the black,
like a dark sapphire ink.

      Wind be a brush,
       for my long,
       slightly savage hair.

         Time drills and channels
          the canyons
          in the flesh of brain.

(Here is the bag with all the leaves
and withered twigs, rotten apples,
gray hair, used tickets, dried tears,
dirt and sebum scraped off the skin,
crumbled, tattered papers, alcohol
metabolites, angry emotions, *****
of thread, carcasses of birds,
feces, and rusty metal junk)

Thank you,
I am cleansed.
Ylang Ylang
Written by
Ylang Ylang  26/M
(26/M)   
359
   Ylang Ylang
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