Searching for Galileo,
    the race to be first home,

In a sea of patients
    we climb the probability tree,
    walk upon the shore collecting
      memory shells,

We win the little wars,
     lose the big fight,

These windows are breathing apparatus,
     this ceiling, a blur of tungsten sky,
     rain, tears, weep,

To rest near to you,
     the technicolor sleep,
     and I died with you,

All farewells are sudden.

Slop
in the trough.
Poison cough.
Shattered femur.
No dreamer.
In a world of crime
It is
Time

I've never saw such vibrant waterfall before,
Took off my clothes, left to dive in,
Ventured the silky blue till the bleak red,
Watched the paints washed together, before
Bask myself beneath the glowing yellow.
Only this time I had hurted my gaze,
I saw no more silky and bleak hues,
No more fluids, or glowing light.
I blinked once, then twice,
Through my eyes,
The pitch black waterfall became,
Nothing I could recall,
As the girl looked at me,
Like the empty space I saw.

You're in my head; you're in
          Like rabies.
I've got you under my skin,
          Like scabies.  

You're in my heart; you're heart-
          Attacking.
You crack me up.  I ****.
          I'm cracking.

Skin itched by
sweat rash grown, on
my shoulders when rubbed
by clothes that don’t breathe

A ear is blocked
I can hear my own voice
Irritated by the sound of it
against some blurry, trivial noise

I cannot bear matters
that does not see itself resolved;
But more annoyed by
those who does and did not

If tomorrow always find things better
Like a clock with self-steering gear
— it intimidates me, the thought of
all midnight struggles futile

This emotional ball of yarn
is rolling forward and bigger
I lay all fingers to disentangle
only weaved them tighter

I am suffocated
by the impatience to spit it out
My mouth wide open,
the candy sticks in my throat

i confess you like a sin
my friends are getting sick of it
and i'm quoting you like Byron
and i’m just getting sick
like a song in my head
if god existed
like a bruise on my neck
we would have discussed it
so I just quote you again
and it's still obsolete
cause Byron's got nothing
and I'm doomed to repeat it

081324

These days, I skipped my morning routines.
No coffee breaks, no late meals.
I lost not just the appetite for food
But also the appetite to mingle and crack some jokes.

So, it’s just me —
And this isolation was so familiar.
Just like the old days of resisting my “tiny self.”
The so-random thoughts don’t even help at all…
I was stuck in this shell and it wasn’t well-curated.

My body aches with the unknown tensions
And so I pulled the strings off my mind,
Stretched out my feet as hard as I can
But inside me was something severe —
Something I hated to encounter.

I speak to my body as I lay down
Turned on my favorite playlist in Spotify
Full of worship instrumental
And empowering podcasts
Calming my soul to take a pause and simply rest.

Goodnight to the bed bugs that bite
As I shake off the fluffy pillows on my feet.
Then I cover myself with a hand-me-down blanket.
The pain was intense
So I had to grab my pills to give myself a lesson.

I used to glide my left hand
Reaching out my French-bulldog
Named after HP’s Luna Lovegood.
But this time, I made her sad for not playing around.

I know, she’s tired of me too
We stared to each other for days
And all I can see was her scared eyes.
Most of the times, she jumps off her feet
But this was no longer the old times — she’s changed.

I went outside to breathe
But it’s like an open freezer to me.
I ***** when I eat and the aching doesn’t stop.
My body’s tired of murmuring her pleads...
I know and I can feel her
But I was not ready to comfort her.

I looked at the mirror with pale face.
Having tons of lippies can’t even paint my lips red.
I overthink when I’m upset
So my past time was to write —
It’s like an explosion of joy, anger, fear…
Did I forget the others from Inside Out?

The inner child within me was turned on,
And how could I stop her?
Should I play hide and seek?
I hope it’s the end game already
But I find this as my quiet place too.

And why can’t I spit poison!

I swallow enough of it!

If I don’t drain the wound the swelling will persist,
my heart will ache

The taste,
sweet and sick going down with such ease

Why can’t I take a match and watch my life burn

Incinerating the monotony that I stand in,
eager to see the ashes at my feet

Avid or lead
Salt in the way
Summation to verify our, vanity ahead...
Succor and hints of whether, a sermon of place...

The course of a new ship?
Set to sail, with suicide as a destination
Sour liberty has shown us, the boding of unity, asking wit...
The voice, of wealth and remorse is an oddity, to intimation?

Spare futures, in the eyes of the land...
Somehow, and with aged forces to avow...
Life here, is a poignant sulk, of what was chaos in hand
Toward the somber horizon, the life of seriousness, now...?

Has a marvel in times way...
Since borrowed timidity is to be a challenge, of ecstasy?
Will we sit for a nightmare, or is that a question to stay
Stronger than a half sighed, half worthy pace of choice...

Is this horse dead, or running for its life?
Such a small price to pay, for the answer of privilege?
Sweeter by decency, decorum is a new wish for strife...
Antiquity shown, or the method to a wager of sincerity's, least?

Aches, chills, glares and pains
Best served by sleep? a host of vicinity to a futures blanket
Seemingly meant and let, with a proper smile, come plane
Where the tow of vice and its vision of home, is a sick lover's face met?

It's not gonna last forever
I can't seem to decide if it fills me with delight or terror
Do I long for a sickness to shorten the days I've left to live?
An excuse so I'm not at fault and there's nothing to forgive?

It's not gonna last forever
I could cry for days on end
Not because I bleed and hurt
But because I'm so sick to pretend
That I don't