Buried in a hole
                           Pain?
                      Nah
Numb...
                Eh
Numb...
               Short circuiting
Numb...
               Fluffy ponies
Numb...
               Sleep, who she be?
Numb...
               Crinkle, the package opens
Numb...
               Blurry vision
Numb...
               Hysterical
Numb...
               No tears
Numb...
               Wave of self deprecation
           Self pity
        Wow
       I'm pretty pathetic
...
Oh well
  A
    Problem
      For another
         Day

Good morning from Chumphon, Thailand

I awake with happy birds
and country roosters' crow
lazy and slow

I pity busy morning
filled with noisy cars
rushing downtown
anxious and hurried with cares

By Wyle Tan

The crook of your neck is my favorite place to rest my chin,

to bury my nose deep into the crutches of your scent: the natural musk of my person manifested

as a trail of fingertips tiptoe on your bare chest, a smile tugs at my lips gently at the bliss of midday splayed around you,

in turn, you scratch my back fondly: the soft contours of my unflattering body don't feel as unflattering anymore

rather, you transform me into a wonderland of bubbles, mischief and sweetness encircled in this secret display of "us"

****
I wish to write
But all I do is sit
with nothing in my head but a bunch of junk
my fingers question my mind
"why is there nothing for us to type"

I'm in Miami
12:26 in the morning
But with no sun in sight
It's still night
the only thing that's still visible
is the moonlight
just kidding
out the window, I look
in the distance are all the streetlights

I come home again and there you sit
On the couch under the tvs grip

You never move, complain when I leave
I have asked you to come and join me

No you say, you're to tired for that
You rather go take your daily nap

So you escape to the room with bed
There you are laid now resting your head

Off you go having those horrid dreams
Keep this up, it'll be reality

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
I love being cliche,
and being lazy too.

I’m sorry that I don’t always
Find the time for exercising
And sometimes my room is cluttered
I’m not a real clean person

I’m sorry that sometimes
I leave my cereal bowl
On the table
I don’t relate, half the time
To things that are important

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I know sometimes
I’m not perfect
I do not practice
What I preach
But neither do you
Cause no one can
Don’t mean to burst your bubble.

I can’t read minds,
You’d like me to
I wish I could
Cause then I’d know
Exactly when you’re mad at me
And then I wouldn’t need
To have these pointless
Panic Attacks
My brain thinks are so important
I should see a doctor

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I do well school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

I like to think
I’m unique
I try to stand outside the crowd
But you told me
I sure blend in well
I think that’s mean
Because you’re the most
Basic ***** I’ve ever known
But maybe you’re right,
I’m just like you.

But I don’t smoke and
I don’t drink
I don’t do drugs
I don’t party
I’m good at school,
And I live at home
I’m doing my best, Mom.

You’re right, Mom:
A "B" is not an "A"
I’m a hoarder
I’m not healthy
I’m pretty lazy
Quite complacent
Self-righteous
Inconsiderate

But I’m doing my best, Mom

there's a stir in my heart
feels like having a fit
what to do about it?

i don't know where to start
i'll just sit for a bit