To both of you
Your paranoia has taken
a totally new level.
By checking my phone,
or my email accounts
or my Facebook account
is not going to be doing you
* any form of good. *

My friends and I
called that conversation
a heart-to-heart
the kinds I've never had with
both of you.
There are overwhelming feelings
that need to be poured out
And with that someone you know you could trust
That's pretty much
good for my mind.

Academics come second or third
When you are having a mid-life crisis
I'm sorry sir
but
get
YOUR
priorities right.

The one hour that I would have
to spend with you on Sundays
is the most unproductive,
stupidest things
I've ever done in my entire life.
It's not helping me.
And if you haven't gotten the signs already,
you should just stop,
and not care too much about anything.
Yes, it may be your next-of-kin's future
That you're worrying about
And I'm worrying about the exact same thing
But there are some things i don't show or tell you
So please, keep quiet.
If you're going to be strict with me,
let me tell you one thing.
It's not going to go the way you want it to be.

Slashes of the cane may never leave their mark.

Well, both of you might as well keep quiet.
I probably wouldn't go to Harvard
And that's well none of my concerns
Because I know
Few years from now, I
will
try my best to get into a good uni.
But till then,
I beg of both of  you
Just keep quiet.
Both your voices
Neither soothing nor reprimanding
Is what I don't what to hear.
So if you could just care on some important things
Maybe my health or my study?
I think I would study even more
And do better
Just help me clear my doubts once in a while
I don't need both of you.
All the time.
You might say,
Oh you are so ungrateful
But let me tell you,
deep inside
I still care, and I still worry about you.
So I'm not that ungrateful
Just care when it looks like if you have to
Until then, don't talk
keep quiet
Cuz' I only feel worse and worse
when you do.

Seriously sometimes my friends
would be able to empathize more
And they understand
And one more things,
if companies search through so much data,
they would be very very very
disappointed to know how many people
do it every single day.

In the inside,
I'm almost at breaking point.
There's so many things I don't tell you.
Problems only get worse
Your advice doesn't make much of a difference.

So just keep quiet.

you sit.
you watch.
you work.
with headphones over your head.
community service.
work.
family??!
dinners only.
not much talk.
meetings
meetings
meetings
your daughters don't listen to you?!!
your wife is funny.
a boring life.

I'll miss the old ones
Dearly
With their
Heavy
Plastic frames
Cheetah spots
And dark
Tortoiseshell
Rims

They would hide
Things
Shield things
And maybe
Protect

The new ones?
Well..
They're brighter
But sadder,
They show more
They hide less
Lighter
And clearer
The only weight
Resting upon
Two points
On the nose bridge
Instead of weighing down
On my face

A new image
A new character

Oh dear Villanelle, I tried, I tried, I tried
To cure you of a stubborn disease; a form
So onerous, it hurts both my eyes

To see you bleeding tears out of your sullen eyes
Words would always have their power to ****
Oh dear Villanelle, I tried, I tried, I tried

My closet holds no aba aba
If I’ve only known better medicine, there seems
No cure for you , so onerous it hurts both my eyes

Iambic pentameter you say, NO
Such remedy I say
Oh dear Villanelle, I tried, I tried, I tried

Your crumpled form, my eyes cried
Tears that I’ve never known
Dear Villanelle, I tried , I tried , I tried
This villanelle, so onerous, it hurts both my eyes.

The little gold
Shines beautifully
Under the yellow light
Shimmering faces
With a cheeky smile

Come four years
A little older
A  little dirtier
But that same cheeky smile
The same little gold

Come another 8 years
The same little gold
Inside
Layers and layers
of dark, black
dirt piling up
No more cheeky smiles
Only masks, masks and more masks

Come another 16 years
The same little gold
More and more
More and more
More and more
Layers piling up
The little gold
No more to be seen
Black, coarsened gold
Masks, masks and
more masks
A heart of gold
But not
a mind of gold

Come another 32 years
The little black gold
ceases to exist.
Under the thousands
and thousands
and thousands
of other layers
But a new layer of gold
forms.
Twas not the gold
formed first
Formed last
Old is gold.