I am
just
a kid.

a kid
that you
have to
beat.

beat meat, beat meat,
beat meat,
today is
your turn
for a treat.

It was once high up to the brim,
the storm, the wave, the breeze,
as we are carried to the middle
of the uncharted yet wild sea
and the sun about to rise
the dusk about to disappear
we let the rosy amethyst
came and became the catalyst
the catalyst of the uprising
and we are no longer undermined,
now the dam is no longer a dam too.

The moment you depart
from the stagnant, terrifying pole
I can see it through the glassy eyes
that you picked up the shards,
and shades of all the energy in us
before putting it on the plane
oh sweet soul, sweet untold
but I can feel it, and you can't hold it.

You are the embodiment of truth
a destroyer of corroborated lies
the sun slips away, oh you make it stays
everything in place, oh sunny side days
I am amazed at how far I've went
without having you at the other end
you put the meaning in Ying Yang
gone are the days of firing blank.

The age of understatement passed
horizon hangs from dawn till dusk
enthusiasm for the solitary odeum
helianthus laid at the mausoleum
you killed the ever-present sadness
and the endless parallel to happiness,
the tomb has finally been breached
I'm dumbfounded, bewitched.

You right the wronged in me,
and the spectrum burst into something
unlike the Pandora's box
Magna Carta suffered, and love
is all that I've ever heard.

You can rant,
rant and rant
rant and rant
all you want.

but it is never
intended to be
something fun.

Rant, my son.
Rant.

I confront myself every night
struggling to make ends meet
wiped the dust off my thorny feet
but the moment I indulge
in the confusing exchange
the suffocating, the suffering
betray the ever-present inkling.

I dreamt of my freedom
soaring high
from the eruptive Damascus
with the destructive Andronicus
to the mighty nebula and burst
visible in the night sky
horrible to your naked eyes
and I knew if it happens,
my time, my fate
would end and I
could comprehend.

Release me
from this
terrifying temple
prosecuting throne
horrifying reefs
tormenting prison.

Mama shall burn me
tonight,
out of everyone’s sight.

Pretending to be
a functional adult
is exhausting.
Pretending to be
a conventional writer
is much more
frustrating.

25.5.2014