in my dreams, i call you the keeper - there are millions of fireflies in the garden, asking how we made it this far. i say: it's not even far, but my throat is burning, the words starts to disappear, my hands keeps getting colder and the clock is ticking. tick tock. tick tock. tick tock.     take u s away

the worms start to crawl on my belly. my innocent desire is only to express my moonlit thoughts without being scrutinized by desperate mouths, eating cockroaches instead of vomiting snake skins. p r e t t y little thing, they say. no one sees the facade. but to me, the prettiest thing comes from the abandoned houses, yelling in shame, intimidated by the oppressors.

but do oppressors really matter? i think not.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

the water from the shower continues to run down. my back against the wall, trembling hands, smudged mascara on my lashes. people's eyes always imply to act proper. i will always be a   /l a d y/   but oh, i think i will never be free from their expectations. frowning face, stern behavior, bitter truth—they loathe it.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

i have always wanted to tell the mortals to bury the hatchet. but i know sustaining a war sometimes feels comfortable—a unique distraction to preoccupy our raging minds, parting ourselves from the unsatisfied society. still, everything stays. our pasts. the heartbreaks. love. the deities will never punish us for the displeasure but it will make us tick. we should know.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

you may feel alone
but your troubles are known
i blink and your worries
have found a new home

they soar over oceans
and dance past my eyes
into my limbic system
for me to unwind

your wounds
hold a glimpse of
our lost love and time
i will line them with silver
so the world sees your shine

i will carry your thoughts
when your mind is unkind
i’ll speak love down your spine
drink your tears to survive

with your pain
i will paint you
constellations for eyes
so you glow like the stars
dancing deep in your bones

oh, my heart would skip a beat
just to loan you your own

Sycophants.
That Great Tree burns all around us.
Can you smell it?
Can you sense the presence?
That Great Old One, that Great Old Tree burns.
Beckons.
It's smoke rises up and crosses the sky 4-fold.
No bombs may stop it.
A fate lined delusion, to which, even the children succumb.

On the ground and among the spit and slander is the shelter of wisdom.

This must be so.
>>>The waves build and grow on one another.

NO MOUNTAIN BEFORE US CAN STOP OUR FLOOD.

Skins who claim to see are blind to themselves.
>>>The waves build and grow on those nearby.

NO MOUNTAIN BEFORE US CAN STOP OUR FLOOD.

Formless connected masses gather and execute their souls.
>>>The waves flood and spread their swirls.

NO MOUNTAIN BEFORE US CAN STOP OUR FLOOD.

On lookers below the pyramid find mercy in their death.
>>>>The waves spare nothing and the wall burns inside.

NO MOUNTAIN BEFORE US CAN STOP OUR FLOOD.

The tree smolders and finds union among the people of the AIR.
Few understand these images.
All will come to feel these images.
In beauty none will see it.

NO MOUNTAIN BEFORE US CAN STOP OUR GREAT FLOOD.

The infinite forms of the depths sprout new seeds upon the space where we may walk.
The path before us is along a prime meridian that none can follow.
The eternal eternal from whence we came.
And to which we will go.

This, all will know.

you were born with
a gift in your bones
this world is shapeshifting
from your light alone
and it’s lining your vessel
with gooey lovetones
that are dripping pure gold
on to all you have known
you are gleaming with meaning
you are a multidimensional being
who thinks every thought
to create all you’re seeing
you are strong and redeeming
there is nothing weak about you
you pump never-ending value
feel your strength as it climbs
from your cosmic enzymes
they are dancing inside
singing out an endless love song
that “you’re right on time”