#whatisthis
And then we meshed our stars and diamonds
Standing in the acid rain
The universe swirling down the drain
And our hair was all in strings
Wet from the darkness and the cold and the ice forming
And I'm not crying, not crying, no
My face is just wet with tears.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
when you are a balloon that is overinflated
and you're breathing but your lungs feel dissatisfied
your body refusing to move but your mind
running at a speed you can't cope with
the taste on your lips;
like char from a piece of burnt meat
your mind screaming
at the same volume it whispers in
. . .
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
The lights dingles,
Above the head of a two
Who's in love
Who's after one another
But as the lights get dimmer
And the space grow further,
Between them
They were in love
Yet,
They fall apart
They have one mind
In history,
Politic,
Art,
Poem,
Love,
But never one mind
In priority.
He has an eye for the future,
And she,
She just long for him, in the present
They are:
The two matching puzzles,
The two pair in love,
Yet,
They are the souls that never meant to be together.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
the scissor is on your
nape. think away the thought, please
.
.
.
water. there's a drop stroking over the rim that is your forehead. down, down. a
tear. slips down. a tear of
blood. down more. it edges toward your jaw, neck, throat, into a
vein. crawling, descending. throughout your self and your legs,
crisscrossing. spiderveins. open into
roots, white fading to spruce. your feet are gone and you are a
tree. millions more of you but look up to your leaves, flickering green to the sunlight like
a school of fish. silver in the surrounding black. a cold, encompassing, holding, embracing
ocean. you are the water once more. only this time you meet the sky, through a gate called
horizon. endless. infinite. edging, but it only follows you and you it.
are you one with the world? if not, be the world.
you are a world.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
No one left to wipe her tears
No soul to embrace
Shattered promises and shattered hearts
She thinks, she ponders.
What is this? She prays.
When the walls listen better
when the darkness feels brighter
And the ghost's hug better.
Dissonant it is, she cannot sustain
tears turning sweet,
actions turning pale,
Is this what she wanted? she woefully contemplates.
She places herself at the edge of sorrow
feeling facetious and morrow,
even when not alone, her words echo
going deeper and deeper, shallow.
unable to differentiate the words,
wife or maid?
No identity of her own,
Feelings decayed.
Called as the wife, daughter, or mater.
Will she be able to live like this hereafter?
Maybe the little girl could explain as she embrace
how this is not love, my future self,
You have to escape.
Mar 31, 2025
Mar 31, 2025 at 1:37 PM UTC
a what was to be a stifled yawn escapes her lips
fingers rubbing at tired eyes as if if she rubbed hard enough she could make the purple rings underneath blend in with the colour of her skin
body feeling weighed down on my some force to be reckoned with, one much stronger than gravity
a sleepy haze overcomes, but she doesn't seem to mind this kind of tired
being so well trained in the fine arts of what tired can be
she smiles knowing that this tired is one of the good kinds
this tired isn't like the kind of tired you feel when depression becomes you rbest friend and no matter how long you sleep the sight of the sun still burns your eyes and you feel like deadweight being pulled by a string
or the tired that follows a fit of tears and shaking, the tired that made a love affair with anxiety and you hope for nothing more than for this affair to be over for your sanity
no this tired, is different.
this tired keeps the smile on your face when you wake up from three hours sleep knowing that it was all worth it just to get a simple hello from the one person you've been dying to talk to all day
an I love you from your best friend all the way across the ocean
the tired that reminds you how you felt while your eyes were burning and begging to be **** when you saw that your world and his had met up o the same day even though the time zone would beg to differ that he's not as far away as he seems anymore
this tired i do not mind
this tired can overcome me any day
as long as this tired continued to feel like the tired you get after you've soaked in rays of golden sunshine for a bit too long
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
All you can hear is your heart beating.
It's beating against your chest again and again, rushing the blood quickly through your veins. It almost hurts, how desperately your lungs are craving air for minutes now, which feels like an eternity. Your mind is blank, and it shuts out all the warning signs your body sends. The signs are useless against the chill that runs down your spine and thrills your muscles all over your body. As the feeling lands, it rushes back with the speed of light, straightening the hair up on your body from head to toe. You would never believe how quickly you can turn your head towards the most desired thing, only because you made yourself believe it's impossible to happen.
A single touch.
The easiest way to connect two bodies to each other and wake up your whole system at the same time.
Suddenly, you feel everything and nothing. You feel how her fingers are brushing against yours on the cold grass. Your skin is burning where her skin touches yours. You try to ignore the fact that she placed her hand in that one possible way, when her hair on her hand is tickling your skin, but also brings the pleasure in thrills to your mind.
It almost locks your hand there.
The cold wind and that one strand of your hair that tickles the side of your lips are just pushing you deeper into the act and urging you to swallow and glance at her finally. Your mind is going crazy as you move your gaze in her direction finally. The streetlights from afar are blurring your vision and painting shadows on her face through her hair. Even the closest building is dark in the dim lights as you're sitting above the sidewalk in the grass.
Your mind can't help but wonder, if she is just staring into the darkness of the night or playing with the same situation in her head, just like you.
Another feeling snaps you back to reality as soon as your hand presses harder in the dewy ground, interlocking the grass and her fingers with yours, when she turns and finally looks at you, too.
2024.03
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 7:25 AM UTC