the raised lakes of Beijing
are fitted with the finest glass walls
parents go there to unload their unwanted children
the squids of the lakes grab hold of the children,
          hug them
                    adopt them
                          teach them to breathe
people walk by, pay no attention
but the glass walls are built tall
            wiped clear
to the point where i can’t help but to notice.
the orange plumed tentacles
grown straight from the children’s backs
          pulsing like a flame
                  like a phoenix
                         like a poppy’s bloom
smeared by the color of the water’s haze
or the tourist’s awe-shot eyes.

My final hour lay me down,
Pitch wings come gather round.
Stars defaced they shed no light
Whether by choice or lack of might.
The hands of Father Time stand still.
Upon my skin, a creeping chill.
Mother Nature takes up the knife,
She saws the fragile string of life.
She doesn't clip through and get it done,
She drags it out, she's having fun.
It's getting dark, I cannot see.
I don't know who is here with me.
Whether there is someone,
Or no one at all
It doesn't matter my life is done.
I've taken and tried, through it I've crawled
I've stumbled, got up, tried to run, once again to fall.
The soft black feathers, tender are they.
Cradled in wings of darkness I lay.
One last movement, the life line snaps.
And everything around goes black.

Art Image
The artwork hangs there on my wall
As it has for years
A simple framed image in a frame
Nothing special to look at
But it is special in ways
The frame has a gray arm
And hand that rests there
Ready to punch any robbers
Who dare to steal my art!
My ordinary strange painting
With a Martial Art trained limb

like golden honey i sink into your eyes
the runny liquid coating the throat of my vision
its sweetness runs amok and invades my palate
and pierces my airways
rendering even breath
thick with it substance
towards the shores of your pools
i swim
but the viscous fluid forbids my movement

and we begin to thirst for water
simple and noiseless water
bitter and bland water
to solve our sweetness

i’ve asked for too much, honey

Breathed in the breath of the saviour,
To enrichen a soul that is poor.
I puffed out a portal to the cloud kingdom,
Clinging to the scales of a dragon.
I reached a height as high as heaven,
Given the chance to look past the cloud,
As I put my head through to look,
I was dropped down to the ground.

I met an angel with a kick,
Wanted by the government.
Made my eyes as wide as a rabbit's hole,
As bright as a solar moon.
Black stars in between white spaces.
Generating a reluctant mould.
There are golden flakes in its hair,
When I swallow, they choke my throat.
Thought it was my angel,
Turns out it was fool’s gold.

Who am I,
I don’t know anymore,
I lost myself,
So long ago.
I lost pieces of myself,
In those inner landscapes.
I’m struggling to find the pieces,
I can’t remember their names.

I forgot how I got here.
I can’t feel anything here.

Are you out there!
Shine a light on my face!
Oh, I want to die,
In a beautiful place!

I am so tired,
Of keeping these ghosts inside of me!
My eyes are ugly,
Take them away from me!
My thoughts are ugly,
Take them away from me!
Everything around me is ugly,
Take it all away from me!
When I die,
Will my god die with me?!


I think I, may have found my god.
I’m melting in his eternal sunshine.
Breathing in, a crumbled image of his face,
It turned my tears into wine.
The earth’s my grave,
And the sky’s my cradle.
Unearthing my new low,
To find the highest place one can go.

My shadow is as authentic as my flesh. Under the deep cover of the day, it comes out to play, mimicking me in such a ragged manner. At times, it is ahead of me, as if its automation is one premeditated dance. Other times, I feel as if it has given me the reigns, through no request of my own. It is so faithful to my identity that it may as well be independent. Why shouldn't it be? Detractors would call me foolhardy with my whims. They would say, "Oh, but where does it go at night? Little child, where has your friend gone?"
What villains these people are. Of course, the shadow must rest from the pains of this earth; from the sight of mongrels like them. Every shadow has the right to fear the aged and the gnarled; their eyes domineering over every present pebble beneath their feet. It is as if they spit on their homes. I would burn the world twice over to protect my shadow. His own realm must be something of a sanctuary, or a holy womb. It ought to be my duty to protect the last vestiges of nascent, naïve innocence.

The Pleiades are so close
Or they seem that why
As we drive on a mountain
Pass
I wonder if I can see the big dipper.

You can live an entire life with someone in your dreams, and they would never know.
The first kiss you shared, and the last words you spoke to them before the waking dream loses them, neuron to neuron, cell by cell.
Then I thought,
you could do so awake as well.