Wouldn't it be lovely
To lose yourself
Wouldn't it be lovely
If the world turned dark.
Wouldn't it be lovely
If all felt void
Wouldn't it be lovely
If I breathed no more.

Too tired to argue
With thoughts that float closeby
Too tired.

And if I don't fit your standards
Then, you have to paint
A standard on me?
The world is your canvas
And so you smile at what you
Want to see?
I love you guys
That's as clear as can be
Love us in your standard
And in the moonlight
Let the glowing soul leave.
You've made your shells,
Why do you need their cores?
Acting like they're free...

Am I an anomaly?
Too tired to tell.
I don't want to take the time
To explain who I am.
Not every single time.
Easier to say goodbye but
I'm flying high
Too fast for me to.
Too tired.
Just let me be me.

the stars are projectors and we are merely figures
floating through sounds sent to us
by movie makers
dancing through space and time

the stage is set in space

we film now farthest from the sun and we wait
it's quieter here.
to dance without music is to pretend
to make believe
it has been quite some time since i'd last heard my favorite song
i am unsettled
as i should be in the role of the vagabond.
so i start to sing
and they tell me to continue on and the stars shine brighter.
blinding.
i see nothing. stunned.
i close my eyes
tears flooded with memories of a place where greens and blues
make me want to see
the world,

my world
i look to you
and i see it. i can hear it.

the music echoes throughout the system solar
vibrations sent through constellations
and the stars begin to shoot
the final scene

the beginning.

darkness.

These tracks playing in the back of my mind
Overlapping
Seeping
Diffusing
Into every sound,
Colour,
Movement...
Infusing into my veins,
Pulse,
Eyes
Gripping my heart
As the surrounding muscle contracts
And takes over

Pumps
Loosening my body
Muscles stiffen,
Peripheral vision darkened
Pump pump
Throat clump
I missed my chance
I missed my chance
Neck outstretched
Eye lids embracing my eyes
You're losing focus
And this distance,
Lack of reassurance,
Eats me up

And so I hide away

I hide my tears in the sand
for it is the one to understand
how precious water is.
A single drop of tear is beautiful
to the sand in the desert who before
today has never had it.
It's like discovering a new object or like getting a valuable gift
it'll preserve my tear: hide it; keep it safe
for it understands the value of every tear
because water is so precious to it.
It'll cool down the moral compass of the sun
and melt the passionate chills of the desert nights
it'll preserve that tear: hide it; keep it safe
for it understands the value of it.
I will hide all of my tears in the desert sand
until the desert tastes of rivers or the sea
and ever time time a tsunami breaks out in the desert where my tears reside,
I'll know that those were the time when I let
loneliness creep inside of me
Those were the times when my valuable tears
burst open from the sand and flooded the desert because I let loneliness creep inside of me.

I feel jailed in my own body
socially forced to conceive
emotionally sick
hurt within

Scared to transmit pain
in this age of depression
reminding my ancestors' culpability;
will I also hurt my descendant?

Struggling to finish a phd
in this age of precarity
thinking it might push me;
Or, will I fail it all?

I was down.

And so I decided I needed flowers.

But not roses. Because roses have thorns.
And I am so sensitive lately.

I decided, not mixed flowers.
Because I’m mixed up.
And I need to stabilize.

I decided, not tulips.
Because tulips droop.

I decided,
I need gerbera daisies, bright.

Because gerbera daisies stand upright.

And so I bought some
in a wonderful shade of Fuchsia.

(F)or all the
t(o)ugh times
that (c)alled
for (u)ltimate
(s)trength...
remember
them..

My poetry is ice cold
And offer me no sympathy
Lines have no comfort between them
On top or underneath them
If words could conceal my hearts disease
Then paper would be rough and bumpy and creased
Forgive me those who put their souls on sheets
Forget what I've written like flaky Autumn leaves
That become nothing after they brown and fall from trees
Gather up my words and spread them in the wind
But, I fear that my sonnets mean nothing to the ears in which they're caught
Like paper doves, they sink in water
Mine, though they rhyme, holds no less passion than torture
For those who feel different, don't let this thought bore you
For feelings that linger will soon pass
Trains that stop, will again move fast
And like these things that never lasts
That is poetry to me, so this is my last

i used to write about scars i can't see anymore,
i would tear open and salt wounds in hopes of a piece that i could but would never fully be proud of.
these pieces i wrote held me down and made my feet drag throughout these hallways and,
i'm not doing that anymore.
i'm starting to remember who i was at birth,
who i am when i'm in my happiest state and not even my demons can drag me back down to the hell i used to light.
i love,
and i smile.
i used to write so much about who i used to be that i started to miss it when i couldn't write anymore.
my mind lived at more than four years back,
i relived my darkest days over and over when i couldn't see the sun in the morning.
i'm not doing that anymore.
last year, i lost my best friend,
my favorite person in this entire world,
my sun and my moon and my stars,
i believed the earth spun for him and solely him and i still do.
losing him made me lose my hope.
and for that time,
there were more dark days.
there were fresh wounds and igloos made of tissues and blankets.
i will miss him forever but i will live in his honor.
i'm holding my head up high and i will love and admire the earth until i meet my Everything again.
i used to write about the bad days,
the cloudy days,
the days where i cried on my bedroom floor,
the days where i burst out in tears during a normal day in class because i just couldn't do This anymore.
i'm not doing that anymore.
i've learned and seen how beautiful this world can be.