Holy hell,
this show is insane,
riveting, complexed, nuanced,
compelling, captivating, addictive,
he proclaimed
on Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook,
wondering where the days went,
wondering what unforeseen abyss swallowed him whole.

I'm stuck in an elevator
Between floors
I can't remember if it was going down,
Up,
Maybe sideways,
I guess it doesn't matter anymore.
I'm stuck in this lift,
Alone,
I've always been alone.
Ten years ago I thought I was,
You convinced me otherwise
Now you're gone,
Moving up,
Or down,
With somebody else.
And I'm stuck,
Between floors,
With myself.
You told me in the end I was terrible company,
Now I know,
It's true.
I don't know that person
Looking back at me
In that mirror
In a lift,
That is stuck
Between floors,
Maybe 9 and 10,
Both are my lucky numbers,
Not anymore.
I've been trapped in this cabin
For hours
Perhaps days,
I'm not sure
You took my watch.

There is a wire tap inside his mind
which pulls the waves in and over
the shore, fast. It floods
the earth and leaves his skin
pale and waterlogged, blue from the cold
and bloated with decay.
When the wall of water hits and the screams
of many tired, sad people can be heard,
the sinking city of Venice will crumble
away into the sea, leaving jagged,
splintered rock jutting from the ocean
like strange stone blades. In the silence
of receding water, I hear the cries
of a newly orphaned child and see
a small silhouette standing over the body
of his father, satellites still speaking
to the microphones in his dead brain.
The tide laps at his splayed limbs
and the water pulls him back
towards the ocean while the boy screams,
wailing as he clutches the cold, limp hands
and begs his father with tears and fury
to come back to him.

warm weathers with a warmer heart:
i stretched out my arms
and embraced her with all i am.
this girl threw an ocean of words,
of images, of emotions, and even of silence at me
over a mango shake, kimchi fishcake,
and a pair of hot matcha lattes.
she challenged me to a doodle dare
when i told her i don't draw humanity,
as much as i wanted to draw her right there on the spot.
let's draw those people on that side of the cafe
ah, a people-watching activity!
just our kind of hobby that immerses us within society
while being in our own little world!
i noticed she draws people first
then the background according to the proportions of the persons;
yes, a people-watcher observing another people-watcher
unlike me who starts off with the walls and furniture of the space.
she drew the ovals for body proportions;
her pencil marks done gently, focused and magnified,
much like how she holds herself up.
thus we were satisfied with unfinished sketches
and incomplete acapella song covers;
and it definitely was a finished day–
complete with her presence,
photographs taken with cameras and our memory's eyes,
inside jokes about boys and talks about life outside.
the sun is getting lower
as the hour hand is getting higher.

Time continues but we paused.
So I'm up for another round with you, Lou.

By Arcassin Burnham


Boring days like this one wouldn't keep my silence dancing,
boredom is like a cancer that could some times be annoying,
blessings keep me hanging on like cats hanging in there,
luck hangs by a thread and everyone just does not care,

Dribbling thoughts in my head that makes me go insane,
but this world is insane enough but i don't have to add to the flame,
of an undying pain i feel when problems comes to my world,
I could lose everything including the love of my girl,

If the world wasn't so jacked up then it'll be like heaven on earth,
but she just had to grab the apple from the tree , that's our worth,
forgiveness is futile thats why you have to watch your back,
Don't let the evils of this world throw you off track.