vagrancy forms the pupil
loitering firms a study
a passenger of the seasonal influence

believe in the homeless
the pigeons and the litter
lovingly observe the unhandled gaps
in our gathered mouthings

believe in big babies
believe in display
the posters
walls
malls
the money bleed
that we are sincere to
and the signals that thread us
to one single box

invited and isolated
housed
unhoused
on vacation
and vacated

inattentive pupils

is the death so dearly wished,
final words upon your lips?
leave the world, fatal breaths,
cross thy heart and lay to rest?

the shining glimmer in your eyes,
blotted out: a cloudy sky.
the warmest hearth, stomped out cold,
the ****** of a soul of gold.

this is a test
to see how this works,
and if
this will still be here.
and if it's not, i guess that's
just how the world is supposed to work.
...
but it's still here,
so i don't really
know how
to process this now,
i suppose.
i doubt this is a metaphor
and even if it were,
i have no subject it would be for.

I remember
something vague
from a distant past
which I can't place yet
here in the present.

A story in my head
filled with fun
and intense happiness
not a scratch on my crystal ball
everything healthy,
nothing broken.

An era has passed
a love perished
the piece has been written
but I don't like the ending.

i cant remember what it felt like to be a child

there are vague grasps at a feeling

of security, not yet shaken
in adults who are able to know and to do and to decide

I was wondering if there would be a chance you would contact me and talk about what had happened to us, that maybe we could see each other and maybe by then I’ll have what I need－closure. Maybe by that, I could find acceptance and finally say that this is the reality and I have to face it. But I know it won’t happen. I know you, you should have done it earlier, at least?

I’m still waiting for your message. I’m still holding on maybe we could work this time again or maybe we could sort this out but I know that the more I try to connect with you, the more painful it could be since you already cut me off from your life and I don’t want to become selfish to your decision. To be honest, everything is still not clear to me. Maybe because I didn’t get the answers I deserve, that I still lack your explanations to the point I’m wanting to see you so we could settle this out, and maybe by that I could finally have the courage to say my last goodbye. I’m wanting to see you－ to make sure you’re okay, to hug you for one last time, and to tell you I’m thankful for everything.

Maybe we could see each other again, for the last time. And maybe by that, I would finally feel the freedom and assurance that it’s over.

Apparently,
one cannot eat
in the comforts of her own home.
Oh, yes, That's right.
It's not her's.
It's 'her's'.
She, the devil in disguise,
the one who commands you to cower at her mighty might,
the narcissism oozing out of her pores.

Oh no.
I'm sorry.
I literally just described every narcissistic villain mother figure out there.
Shall I start again?

Alright.

When mad at somebody else,
you're her best friend.
While yelling her heart out,
she asks you to join.

You do it,
because it feels good.
Feels good that the monster's accepted you,
so you pretend.

you say a few things,
sneer a little,
watch her smile,
in approval.

but when the time comes, and she's mad at you-
everything in the past,
is used against you.

You can't even defend yourself,
since it's all true,
you did say those things,
yes. you.

as of right now, my hand's a sweltering into an ugly red hue

marks on the back of my arm,
they're going to scar.

but it's not the physical one that's going to stay the longest,
but rather the words,
the blood running after the hurt.

But every time.
she brings me back to her side again.
every time.



                                                        ­    -YYC