Please, I beg.
I can't deal with another

You're my irreplaceable.
My favorite human being

But I'm replaced so easily.
And I feel it pierce my soul

I practiced vows.
I wrote stories.
Imagined fulfilling them.

But they were ripped from me.
And just fucking drowned.
And I drowned with them.
Every night.
Pain and terror.
I'm sorry,

To know her is not just knowing her
name, birthday and her favorites.

No, to know her you have to notice all the
little things that make her, her.

The way her fingers tap when her favorite
song is playing out loud.

The way her eyes always search for that
one particular person in the crowd.

The way she holds back a smile when
his name is mentioned.

Most of all, how she is when she is all by herself.

Nothing shows better how a person is,
than their behavior alone.
Then she is a hundred percent herself,
and that, my love, is the girl you want to know.

Lure Pot Nov 22

O Young, you're not afraid
you're fearless
You're not scared
you're a soldier
You're not a receiver
you're a donor.

O Young, you're not a student
you're a teacher
You're not a cheater
you're a lover
You're not asleep
you're awake.

O Young, you're not blamed
you're praised
You're not bored
you're excited
You're not hurt
you're cured.

O Young, you're not rude
you're kind
You're not sad
you're happy
You are not evil
you're good
You're not tired
you're active.

O Young, you're not crying
you're smiling
You're not violent
you are clam
You're not injured
you're intact

O Young, you're not a failure
you're successful
You're not the dark
you're the light
You're not lazy
you're careful.

O Young, you're not in pain
you're Joyful
You're not hateful
you're lovely
You're not upset
you're hopeful

Young, you're dream
of your family
and beloved to everyone
in this world
Young, you're a dawn
to the dark night
Truly, you're the favorite.

i imagine us
watching concerts and gigs, 

enjoying our nights;

singing and jumping to our favorite songs,

looking and smiling at each other,

your arms around me,

holding my hand later on,

and kissing—i love the idea of you

kissing me, baby.

Ayin Medina Oct 27

I once loved this song
The one we sang together
I can't stand it now

Like how the old song you used to love
suddenly played again after a long, long time,
I hope that someday you will think of me
and you stop doing what you are doing
because you  finally feel the ache when you realize
that you miss me.

10-24-17 // 4:40 PM

Green grass, over the fence
Oh, how she wished something would happen.
Sometimes, I could imagine a duo as Hector and Debbie,
Trusting the process and accepting prophecies.

Things like Hector's passion about music,
Persuading rhythm alike classic romances.
Of how he wanders histories behind every key,
He strums his fingers in swift, never off-key.

Hector is somewhat lucky to have a sister like Rowanne,
Checking his contents for loopholes, because then she found one.
Chapter Two, 'Hector goes into a sponge state and has a satori',
To the point where he meets a maiden, named Robin.

Conglomerate, quartzite, sand stone, and cigarette butt.
Why not, let's seek the mighty Debbie's hunt?
Her hook of appreciation is beyond inspiring,
One's looking at the bright, fuzzy picture in the magazine,
Yes, she thought.

Chapter Twelve, Debbie had truck lessons taught by Lenny.
He asked permission from his Dad in the field of gloom.
Debbie and Patty stood inside a thriving mountain of rhododendrons.
Hoping it wasn't too late, she thought the word 'soon'.

A poet would like to bid its period in this closing narrative,
She would like to walk further and swim deeper to the medium paged papers.

This selection of scenarios frames to the advocates,
Criss-cross, criss-cross,
Oh, how she wished something would happen.

I knew I had to repeat my reading routine to Lynne Rae Perkins' "Criss Cross" because whenever I try to continue, I'd be lost from my zone again. "Criss Cross" is the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children, and I would like to assure many readers as possible that this is such an amazing book, everyone. Come check it out and let's read it altogether from the start :)
Bryan Oct 19

I had a second chance at heaven
And I threw it all away.
I once again felt my happiness
Sour into hate.
On this page are the words
That exemplify my rage.
I once was great
But now I'm lost,
To this misery and pain.
My path: a fog, through trodden dirt
To a cemetery gate.
For what dark fate
Does this soul
So very anxiously await?

My boots are caked with mud.
The smell of iron permeates,
Along with moss, the smell of dirt,
And most certainly decay.
Never mind my mortal soul...
What kind of demon lies awake
In the midst of human fruit,
Over-ripened in the day?

The splitting corpses seem to beg me,
"Stay away, stay away!"
Burgeoned fruit spills forth,
As the rinds peel away.

The tortures yet continue,
Testing will and sanity.
Stumbling forth into the mixes,
Pestilences use the meat:
Fruits of flies spill their guts
Under muddied, weary feet,
And in the soup, in the gore,
Coagulation races feast:
Clots of blood battle vermin;
Scabs crunch like autumn leaves.
To this yet, there is more
On this journey I have seen:
Fire burns, and humans shit,
And mix the ashes in the breeze.
What soulless cur,
What kind of beast
Inhales with pleasure
When he breathes?

Smoke and fire burn the horizon.
There is nothing left of peace.
To the camps I was swept,
In the tide of the deceased.

Hard at work in heat,
Tattered and flayed meat
Toils in agony,
Swinging hammers in defeat.
Blood-slickened handles
Slip from fingers weak:
Wood and metal sings
At worn and weary feet.

Rusted chains sling,
Slicing through the heat,
Slicing through the smoke,
Slicing through the meat.
In the distant, murky background,
Drums of war greet,
As flesh and bone and flame
Dance to the beat.

Chastened bones respond,
Breaking stones in the beyond.
The work of hell waits
For no man very long.
Gangs of chains tag along,
Making quite the fiendish song,
As the billions in the lakes
Add their agonies to the throng.
The shrieks of charred lungs,
And throats ruined long,
Build the thickness of the air:
An anguished plague of smog.
Keep the fires burning;
Add another human log.
Respite is just a word,
An idea like winter frost:
Once before, it had purpose,
But now, its meaning, lost.

Abandon hope, is what they say...
But not for very long.
In the fire, in the rock,
They find their words are gone.
... Long forgotten, but for the lyrics
Of the Devil's favorite song:
A timeless tune, that my soul
Had been singing all along.

abiu Oct 15

I wonder if you rememember spending some time together,sharing my favorite Skittles
Each time we picked a piece and our face distorts, nothing else could be heard, only our giggles

The yellow one was Sour Pineapple, it was only us, not minding other people

Sour Cherry Berry was purple, nothing compares to it,it was irreplaceable

Mandarin was color orange, a sudden startle yet still hoping that nothing would change

Sour Apple was green, it was tangy yet sweet,it was like imagining what we could've  and should've been

Lastly, Sour Raspberry, our regrets, our sorries, the one that ended our story

Piece by piece we tasted it together
Hoping it would never end, wishing it would last forever
We appreciated every flavor
Each of them we wanted to savor

Skittles, my favorite sour chewy candies covered with colorful candy shell
I didn't know it would mean more than that,it described our love well.

And I want to taste it again and again.
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