Silence
O' which seals from me
The torment of thy thoughts –
Thoughts not meant to enter me
But sensed in mists of spheres.

In solitude
I'm dwelling hence
For'a hermit doth not lure the cold –
The thrusting cold o'that which
Is plaguing the foresaken.

Solitude, then to me
Is to radiate that ease –
That ease swaning circular and gracefully
on the calms of the Hydriads' waters.

alone at last
a blessing it is
to remove my masks
in solitary bliss
no more acting
and trying to please
just me myself and
my mind at ease

I wish I could fling the door open
so you'll see the window
I told you about.

We could watch the street posts and tree sparrows on cable wires extending to the horizon of watercolor skyscapes
from there.

But I'm concerned of what
you would think when you'll
also see the vase and
a dead tuscan sunflower
I've plucked sometime
in a long-ago summer.
Don't worry I am not a creep.
I can even make you
some paper orchids
if you like.
I might put one on your ear
if it's fine. Just
give me some time.

Don't mind those
tattered jeans and floral socks
stenched of petrichor
and scattered like autumn leaves
all over the floor.
That's how I've been. Just
give me some time
to clean.

But then that is why
I'm all afraid
you might dislike me
for I've built up lies
and messy secrets
to hide a past
and all.
There wasn't even
a single window
on that wall.

You might not understand
I'm like a lichen-blotched tree
inside a lake of jade.
More like a
dead tuscan sunflower
inside a vase. If so
you don't have to
stay longer in my shades.
But don't just leave me
like a summer
in a while.

You might not understand
why I live
in a house of no windows.
But maybe you won't open the door.

6/22/19

I committed no crime,
So why then do I run?
Maybe I’ve run out of time,
And I can’t stand to be outdone.

As I run, I leave clues,
To divert anyone who stalks.
Random things like clews,
I’ve changed basic characteristics.

Maybe I’m bad at leaving ’em, unless
The detectives are bad at reading.
But they find me nonetheless,
As I try to explain this misunderstanding.

I argue my case – innocence,
They are not convinced.
I plead guilty – acquiescence,
They pick up on the nuanced.

Why is everything backwards?
No one understands me.
Headache and confusion afterwards,
With me no one seems to agree.

But then the detective joins me,
They don’t turn me in.
I can’t grasp it, should I flee?
My emotional reserve, dried like a raisin.

6/15/19

You are a most fragile thing,
Yes, and you’re rarely found pure,
Refreshing like a mountain spring,
He who lacks you is honestly poor.

People fear your genuine company,
Your attendance can be lonely.
So they take you into custody,
To destroy you, thinking of self only.

The collective chaos of your absence,
Somehow they thrive on it.
What they carelessly lack is balance,
We don’t get along in the least bit.

You are a most difficult thing to disturb,
You bring such a pensive atmosphere.
Distracted by other things perturbs,
But just like that, you disappear.

alone in my room
and a blessing it is
to put away my masks
in solitary comfort
peace and freedom
to be exactly who i am
in this moment

arms and legs bound
trapped in a pine box
gasping for air
a feeling that chokes my gut
when a moment of solitude
escapes me

"It's a beautiful day out"
mum says with a sigh
as I turn to look at her with doubt
the screen reflects in the corner of my eye

"I'd rather not"
I say as I turn away
"outside is danger fraught"
I don't want to stray

from the safety of my game
were others understand
and there is no shame
to being a bit bland

4/18/2019

When I feel like hanging out,
Everyone is out and about.
But when I need to get away,
They all seem to want to stay.

God bless my introversion,
Because the other way is confusion.
I dislike the way I am,
Don’t compare me to a clam!

You’ve got me wrong,
Though at times I look strong;
Inside, I’m contorted into a wince,
Praying constantly for more competence.

At the end of a long day of stress,
I sit and mull it over – attempt progress.
I wonder why I am so put-down,
Feels like I’m on the edge of breakdown.

Then I think of the days previous,
Everything becomes obvious.
I need breaks from people,
That’s always been the principle.

In the moment, it’s easy to slip up,
And think I can do this ’til sunup.
But I am weak when it all comes,
I quickly forget my problems.

I have unlimited limitations,
It’s hard to turn down invitations.
People can’t expect much from me,
But I can’t just blame my anatomy.

It seems a daily and vicious cycle
Splurge and crash, it’s becoming critical.
Balance doesn’t seem practical,
Why am I so hypocritical?