All the withered flower crowns have fallen down on trodden ground,
among the garbage disarray of empty beers and cigarettes.
These are memories of drunken folks with tired eyes and weary legs.
Lets lift our heavy waving arms and jump high above the swarm of heads.
The band we like is playing now, but they're so far, we lay instead.
Forget the sheets and towels,
the grass and dirt can grace our skin.
The sound of the bass reverberates in our chests,
This is the best.
Our voices are hoarse from screaming loud and cheering on the gods on stage.
we forget our age, we forget our pride,
we exist as music groom and bride.
Escape all thoughts of work and school.
The grass is cool,
The beating sun has come burnt us all and gone away.
This pending night  has come to chill our bones and remind us we have place to stay.
Let's sleep up now.
Tomorrow, who will we see play?
The final day, let us power through.
Make little histories into me and you.
Dreams and sky only leave our eyes,
when our feet go back to our real lives.
As it ends, she tells us it's sad.
Until this second, I didn't understand.
A festival is a fantasy world,
a dream we'd sleep for as long as our bodies could,
and now it's time to wake up and return.

One night in the middle of summer,
I was given my favorite dream.
And in it, I was her;
the girl you'd think about when you sing.
I woke up, glazed in melancholy-
in sparkle juice sheen.
And I touched your bracelet to my lip,
the one I stole right before we kissed,
and when our mouths swished
dreamy washing machine.
Cleaned our inner depths of psyche,
anointed with love poison-
unable keep the thoughts of longing, dry,
strong desires are the knife
that cuts the girl from your cloth
the one you think about when you sing,
the one I think you like.
So shredded and clean I bound my lips to you,
I didn't stop until dreams came to life.

A little light leaks through
well-kept shades,
illuminating glitters and ghosts
of smoke from the incense.
The scent is strong,
good sticks from the temple
and it fills any missing spaces
in this cluttered room.
Saraswati's sitar is playing lullabies
that wake my conscience.
My eyes are closed
but I can see the color of your kiss.
And the island I forget to escape to
is floating in the distance,
waiting for us.

Make us pet names
and perfect cuddles
with precious time.

If it didn't harm anyone,
I'd ask him for a new one.
I'd pack light and disappear.
If it meant I never had to hear
the voices in my head
that tell me to leave
every
single
day
I'd be ready in fifteen minutes.

I like to play RPGs
It's a world that is unlike my own
and I'm a character I've named myself.
Sometimes I save my progress
on a file- safe and undisturbed-
and then I wreak havoc,
make friends I wouldn't make,
experiment for potential easter eggs.
It feels good to know I can just go back
to where I started
unfazed, undamaged, unharmed.
And if I ever do something substantial
in my free-for-all joyride of side quest,
I can always save it to another file.
There are so many memory cards in my drawer.

I find myself living life this way-
but with empty drawers
and only one disturbed file.
of only one fazed, damaged, harmed, character,
that my brother named when I was a baby,
in a world that I don't like too much.
And everyone tells me it's a game-
that we all put our hours in.
I just see the option
of a never-ending boss battle with loneliness,
or a never-ending side quest with friends,
and too much damage done,
so where better to let my thumbs rest?

There is never any urgency
until we notice the clock.