drag my helpless body down the hallway where it is dark and hidden from everyone, a place too eerie that ghosts yearn to dwell and linger —my purpose is quite the same after all.
compelled to conceal myself in the shadows, sublimating to an unnoticeable presence like speck of dust upon a quaint furniture that no matter how meticulous and kind the hands that care for me, i cannot be wiped clean.
a miniscule of being that i am only has a slight chance to be found. to be known.
His headphones fit in ears that haven’t listened for years I spend most of my time looking down at my phone which is marginally better than feeling alone mass communication has fulled our isolation once love was a rocket now we only connect at the USB socket
my skin was off the first time i met you and you saw how ugly it was to be me. even if i looked frightening, your face remained static—you wore the kind of skin that reminded me of the most calm and quiet period of the night where i can just be myself. there, i could wear any skin i want to hide, to be happy, to be at peace or perhaps i wear them at random just so i can feel something.
you stood there and perceived me beyond this paper skin as if my ugliness was something that can be erased. but just like every skin that is hanging inside my closet, every single one of them is threaded with some sort of deficiency and each time i wear them,
i light myself on fire because i like watching myself burn. slowly, you walked towards me to warm yourself.
i have tiny jars that are shelved perfectly inside my brain from category a to z, sorted by themes, and from one to a hundred —a scale of how painful life is in my repetitive experience.
i keep all my memories sealed like a handful of fireflies shoved in a jar that only live for three days; i may forget every scenario with ease but never the dying flicker—the feeling that grow dim in each canister.
god, how fragile am i that it only takes a trigger for each glass to combust tragically, good thing i'm the only one who knows how to pull it. i wonder which repressed emotions are going to choke me violently tonight.
Feeling a dryness filling my sinus, altitude ascending, rising mile highness in the quietness and silence.
Incline scaling side of this piled detritus, climbing mountain of vileness just to see off this island.
Blindness fills irises seeking lands and their tyrants, kingdoms fighting incited by shining diamonds; but all eyes can spy is skyline's vibrant twilight, clouds bathed in violet, stars aligned with waves riotously violent.
Wrote this one a little over a year ago and somehow forgot to post it on here
as i walk with nothing but the feeling of my heart grasped achingly by my ribcages, i grieve for my future self; this is a habit i cannot break. like a sacred ritual i commence a solemn ceremony to mourn for the unknown half and to mourn for myself, a loveless poet. will i spare someone all the love that i tend in my backyard? the garden of all my poems, the garden of all my words. but, what kind of poet am i if all the love i write is mused by utter loneliness, soiled underneath the pretty field? resting in peace in a worm casted ground. oh, i cannot wait to see how my garden will bloom once you enter it. how your presence will soften the soil and i will welcome you fondly as you earthen close. but please know that rain did not water every thing here, this love grew because my heart has yearned a lifetime to be understood.to be known. you were once a figment of all my hurt, a muse shaped like a blur that i begged to seek me. i guess our hearts naturally just ache to be loved that we yearn for beautiful things right after killing them with our very own hands. still, i remain as gentle as i am now because i mourned, and mourned, and mourned... for someone like you. a flicker that was absent for god knows how many lightyears away we were to each other, that we couldn't hold hands no matter how interlocked our hearts were at recognizing everything we feel. so forgive me if i mourn for you by and by —your beauty is closest to the moon after all, tell me, how can i not long for you forever?
i crave for loneliness to brush my hair, mother me tenderly to sleep as you did when i had carvings on my left wrist at twelve years old —a braille i fondled with every day, i. don't want. to be. here.
somehow, my nightly hiccups never drove me to my end. i am still gentle because you follow me wherever i go; visiting me at the right moments especially when i am accompanied by my own ***** and the cold bathroom floor— and then you stay quiet the whole hour to give me some time to grieve.
i wear you like a protective charm now, for you are the only love i've ever known.