Sometimes I get this sensation
as I take my bare feet
and place them
into tight enclosed shoes
to walk a cold grey
concrete path
still rigid to the shards of
   broken dreams
and promises
scattered along the middle,
the sounds of other people's footsteps
drown out my insecurities
and the
insignificance of
a person who feels small
as I try to grasp at merging
into the person full of
light and meaning
who has a spark in her eye,
     destined to do and make great changes
instead of falling into her own world
of isolation and despair
glancing around myself, wondering whether or not
I actually belong
I don't see my name on the board
with my peers
standing in the crowd,
waiting for the crosslight
to let me walk
walk with them to the other side, but
somewhere along the way
do I get lost
or am I just destined to walk
the wrong path
just so I could be with my peers
who are, of course,
the future
who will change the world
who will introduce a revelation that will change
the biased courses of humanity

but as for me

the deafening screams and words of
other people's
lives, moments, recollections
and livelihoods
cover up my hushed pathetic cries
and calls for help
as I question all that is taking place
in every which way I look
somewhere out there
a mom and her growing daughter
become closer
as my own mom falls apart on me
unknowingly ripping apart my right to establish
an identity of my own
somewhere out there
a dad can tell his children
about his life experiences
of the virtues and humility within that led to
their blessed ways of life now
as my own dad
who deserves, at least
everything the world has to give
works harder and harder every day
and every second
to continue our "blessed" ways of life now

but despite all of that

I am told No-- just focus on yourself
make sure you don't miss the crosswalk
make sure you make us proud--
but they don't see
they are what matters
when it comes to
a kid hoping to grow into a better person

there are colors;

some old and chipped
and falling apart,
on the frames of people's
subconscious
while fresh new colors shimmer
in the evening
starlight atop blue waters
just waiting to be discovered, like a
blind person experiencing sight for the first time

but how can I see the night stars
and fall in love with
the moon's beauty
when I'm too busy staring
at the sun
trying to make my way
up to the very top
running, taking jagged steps,
bent over all broken and
crawling

just hoping to be remembered

as a great sign of the times.

Dear human- as- possible Human,

I wonder what goes on
in your head besides the times of
when you strive to help people?
Sometimes, do you just sit there
and gaze out the window, staring at a cloud going by,
and seeing a face in the cloud,
or seeing something in an object that would
remind you of something?
Do you sometimes pour water into a glass,
just so that you could put it
in the sunlight and look through
the beautiful crystals at eye level,
and just marvel and dream?
Do you sometimes just have
a blank sheet of paper in front of you,
a pen in one hand, and a lamp on,
and do you just sit there,
unsure of which of your ideas
would be meaningful enough to place on paper,
and for the whole world to see?
If these things happen often
during your life, then you and I
are both much more alike than we thought.
And that might be a good thing.
Because sometimes, the coincidences,
the overlapping actions,
and the identical ideals of two people
finally meeting and emerging together,
is like the collision of the sun and
the moon, forming a beautiful, rare,
magnificent eclipse.
And the best part is, let there be
as many eclipses as the stars
in this universe, and no two eclipses
would ever be the same.
I hope that you will come to realize
that you are not alone in this world,
and may we meet very soon.
For as each footstep on the
lightly treaded clouds, stars,
and cement roads,
are never there for long.
They will always be fading away, like ripples in the water.
When we find ourselves
facing one another on the same path,
let’s slowly stretch our hands
out towards each other,
and intertwine your fingers
with my fingers.
That is reuniting all the lost souls in the universe.
Let me gaze into your eyes,
and fall deep into them, like a feather
somehow going against all the rules
of gravity and sense, graciously sinking
to the bottom of the sea.
That is the loneliness and aching pains sinking away
to the core of the earth.

Once I was a child who loved to dream
I wanted that happy ending for the little mermaid
and so I rid the damsel who stood in the way
and then I waited for the prince
to remember the mermaid and love her again,
but he never did,
and they both died sad and heartbroken.
Meanwhile, from my dungeon sprung the damsel
now transformed into a fully fledged witch
who howled with rage whenever love approached
always appearing as the ugly stepsisters
the evil stepmother, the evil queen
taunting me in my dreams every night
thanking me for spawning her into life.

I long to live in a vintage
world
where the warm, spring wind blows
softly all day long
and the sound of wind chimes are
the only things representing
a calm humanity's
existence
I would like to take pictures of you
behind the lenses of that old-fashioned
vintage camera
you wearing a faded David Bowie shirt
with ripped blue jeans, dusty shoes
displaying your white, crooked
teeth of a smile
can we ride around town together
bikes pulled out from neglected
sheds full of rusty, old tools
leaves twirling through the squeaky wheels
rolling down cracked pavements
with crushed, brown green grass and
white daisies trying their best to
remain upright
can we sit on the raggedy bent steps
of an old abandoned
two story house
and eat melting ice cream with
cold fingers and hot heads from the
sun's yellow white glare
can I hold your hand
intertwining our rough flat palms and
tracing your dusty, worn fingers that
wipe away burning tears
and caress my face as though it were
the most precious thing
in the world  
can we pretend that
life is just an old- fashioned movie
time put on for us
and the setting is my mind expressed as a
hazy yet vivid vintage world.

Neurons travel and wind
around your head like
draping tree branches, Christmas lights,
strings of tangled red yarn
weaving a possible
fate.

When the cords are
simply content with
remaining relatively still,
being with you
is like
sailing on smooth,
tranquil, clear blue waters
of a vast, magnificent
ocean,
a blossomed sunset
in the distance
dripping on white, sandy shores
of an island of lost paradise
awaiting our arrival.

But when the cords
flail and twist, tying each other
into knots and cutting off
the clearness
and levelheadedness of thought,
being with you
is like
trying to hang on to
the back of a typhoon,
frigid black waters flailing,
crashing against
foamy, thick quicksand,
roars and curses of a
tyrant sea god
raging seas of water against
the skies,
rapidly expelling
hurtful, sharp anchors and lunging
them to the bottom
of our sandy beds.

And I wonder
what it would be like had I
possessed more
powerful features
as your sea goddess,
as the moon and stars
from above,
and the sandy beds
below that would
catch both
hurtful anchors and
salty tears
you let loose.

You are like a
cool gentle breeze in the trees
whistling your sweet tune
and dancing your fingers through
my hair
like a silver stream of moonlight
on patches of silky worn grass
my feet run across
to get to your outreached
arms of pale morning sunlight
that make the sky
blush into cool shades
of rose, jade, lilac,
and peach
your laugh gushes
like a waterfall blue and white
spraying across
the rocks and evergreen I come
to perch on
when all inspiration for ideas
have dried into
strips of sour plums
and I am left feeling
a crazed thirst for the energy drained away
you are as light as a Cloud
white, often times stained
sunset pink and orange
so filling yet so translucent
in that my ideas
pass right through you
and become forever lost
like airplanes with blinking lights
and no destinations
flying across your endless horizon
of thoughtful evening stars
every time I close my eyes
and breathe
you are there fluttering underneath
my eyelids
smoothing my creased forehead
pulling my mouth up into an
upturned crescent moon
placing your palms
against mine
just to let me know
you are there
though only a fragment of
my imagination
you are simply
the stillness in every moment
encapturing a person's presence
to be carried in
the winds of change
yet brought back time and again
when hope has stilled
and home seems like a desert
that you bring
rain to.

hello,
first thing,
I wanted to say I am sorry I couldn't
read between the lines
to save both of us
from my cowardly, drawn out,
self care of my so called
ambitious future
that taunted us so
and made you pick up
your love,
and walk away
and me, like the coward I was,
just sitting there
listening to your resounding footsteps
then turning back to
work on my
pathetic, lonely script of life

hello,
I'm sorry
I didn't smile at you
the last time that day
when it rained
and the sky
was the color of a
gray heartache
spilling out silver, translucent
tears for both of us
to soak up,
and the concrete was slick with
shattered memories
of warm hugs
and shared mugs of coffee
and the air was
heavy with unspoken words
and your withdrawn sighs

hello,
How have you been?
I know I don't have
the right to say this
but my god, you still look
like life when it's in a
great mood,
still sound like a voice
singing in the shower
I remember waking up to
with a smile
you still feel like
that moment when you wrestled
the long settled rose colored glasses
off my face
and made me see everything,
made me see you,
yeah, you could say
I took your moments for granted,
every laugh,
every smile,
every honest, caring word
I haven't worn the glasses
since then

hello,
I know it's not fair
for me to call you
after all this time, but I am
falling apart
and the only thing
I can recall in color
is the memory of you
sitting with me on the bleachers
watching the sunrise
warm up the cold, windy day
and paint golden our
intertwined hands

hello,
my name is sorrow and regret
and I like coffee
and everything else that reminds me of you
I've lost track of how old
the days are, but I know
there's an infinite number
of seconds and sky
between you and me
but, anyways after all this time
it's quite ironic to say,
but, I still have a dream
except this time, it's changed
it's now a dream where I
wake up to a world
where you are in my life (arms)
again

hello,
I swear I wouldn't take
anything (you) for granted again.
I'd answer every time,
any day,
any second,
any moment
you call.....
just maybe one day
you'll answer mine.
just maybe one day,
I won't have to listen
to a dial
and pretend that I can hear
you
say all the same things
back to me.

The newborn shock and delight of a handlit firework stick
can dissipate in less than 3 seconds.

The patience in an hour standing in line for a 30 second thrilling roller coaster ride, is what everyone thinks living in the moment is.

But sometimes I don't mind the longing and emptiness that remains long after

because I want to be a splash of exurbance in people's lives, disappearing in a flash when love is finally settled.

I'd want people to miss me for eternity, but at the same time I'd escape eternities full of flaws and misunderstandings with them.

So if goodbye is what it takes to be remembered or longed for so achingly,

Capture the person's smile and all your favorite things before
letting go.

And in the cool, drifting abyss of all lost things,
I find you.
You who are affected by the world's discontent,
who watched through penetrating, yet clear eyes--
everything fall apart, underneath the disguise of
impeccable clothes
and red (or black) lipstick--
you who watched the light dance in people's eyes
and tried to determine whether
they were illusions or not,
you who remembered
how it felt to be free for the first time,
standing tall in the clear, cold water and basking in your pain, but daring someone to drown you--
while you learned to breathe.
You who felt love
radiating throughout your body and mind,
how when you looked at her, you saw stars with muffled shines
and the ghosts of a different universe--
you reached out and touched her, gave her your words
drifting across the dark, rigid screen
bursting it like a single drop, forming rapid ripples--
and someday, the truth will come out
how when we're all alone, and the world is drawing to a close
underneath all the pretenses
and the hidden solitary pain,
you will draw out that cigarette full of stars, and let the ashes of a lost world's dreams be carried through the wind,
riding on the smoke of despair--
riding on a soul,
never shattered.

One day,
I found myself standing in front
of the ocean
tasting the salty breeze,
hearing the seagulls' shrill cries as they
swooped on the rocks
watching the fiery, plump sunset drown in the horizon,
my feet felt the way forward into cold, heavy currents
my hair whipped around and my face stung with salty tears
I strained my eyes and leaned forward,
scanning the darkening, rushing waves
lapping against each other
in that moment, there were only three things
I yearned for:

the blue in the heart of the ocean
to color my soul

a siren's enchanting, melodic, mournful cries
to put pain in my heart

the emerging, white sea foam of broken dreams and all things forgotten
to envelop my being

and set it free to be lost in the wind.

Breathing in the rich hot air, is a budding dark red rose;
tall and triumphant it grows, jutting out its vivid green thorns for a naive deer to witness,

the scent of spices in the heavy air from my mom’s cooking is inhaled by the flowers and weeds, both intertwined and gleefully bursting out towards the welcoming daylight,

the leaves of parched trees whistle and sway with the occasional hot breeze
and the wind chimes dance with raw tunes, glistening in the thick heat,

I scrunch my face and glare at the sizzling white sky
where the sun lord shines with no restraint on my messy dark haired head,
right through my ripped blue shorts and light purple tank top,

walking barefoot from scalding rough concrete onto scratchy green grass
towards the lawn chair shaded underneath the tall dark pine tree,
I sit and take a sip of my icy cold cherry coke, popping chewing gum in my mouth

as I lean back to read To **** A Mockingbird by Harper Lee,
enjoying a light daydream of Atticus Finch
with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up in the tangible summer heat,

just like the guy standing and looking out the living room window
of the house across from mine, gulping down icy cold beer
and watching with vague interest the girl with bare feet lounging on her front lawn, sweat dripping off her neck like droplets of cold water coursing down a melting icicle,

I look up, shading my eyes to watch a noisy jet fly high in the sky
leaving behind a vacuum of white fluffy clouds in the shapes of loops and swirls
I grin; somehow they spell my name in jagged humid strips of air,

the screen door swings open with a loud creak, followed by the sound of my mom hollering my name,
I sneak one last glance at the guy who looks like Atticus Finch,
and leave him to be alone with the heat as I head inside.

I want to slice open this blanket of illusion
that seems to coat
reality the way the night sky should,
because here it thrives:
pouring over the lit up city and it's cable lines,
in the iPhone 7's
and the moving wallpapers,
in the water (soda) that I drink everyday,

I feel it in the wasted seconds that tick on by,
the petty, whines
of shady drawn, stick figures
surrounding me, it feels like
sickeningly sweet, sticky fingers from having pried open
a can of sugar coated lies,

like a dollar bill floating upon
the wind,
my high pitched giggle is snatched by blaring car horns
swallowed by an adolescent's carelessness,
stomped on by the
cross guard transporting kids and air across the cracks
in the sidewalk,

I can feel it underneath my drooping eyelids,
how they
beg for truth (or sleep) in the middle of the night,
when I can't seem to get the **** math problem done,
in the slouching of my back on my
black, duct taped chair, for we all know
it is duct tape that holds you together these days,

I flail around with words and colors
flashing in my mind, showing on my skin,
I try to stick my earbuds in
and blast pretty worlds across the scenery,
but even then until the very end
the illusion doesn't go away...
and I still feet so empty and sweet,
kind of like bleach
being poured
into a cake batter,

and so on I dance and writhe through each day,
still feeding myself poison disguised as
comfort food,
still covering reality with
the blanket of illusion,

still complaining of my stomach ache,
and claiming that for some people,
nothing will ever be enough.

Crystal moonlight
dancing around my bedroom
all the stars seem
to shine so bright
I look outside and
see you dancing
around the garden
just like you were
those many years ago
lightly treading on the
flowers beneath your feet
breathing out warm breaths
of honeysuckles and chocolate
gazing up to me
with a tender invitation
in your eyes to join
the lovely Flower Dance
under the moon
how I regretted to
this day declining
the sweet offer you
so generously gave me
to be your one
and only love dancing
alongside you amidst
the broken dreams
the shards of tears
the perfume of forbidden love
the tragic romance
between light and day
the stars that crept
toward earth weeping
and alone
and the way you
valiantly called out
my name and I did
not think to reply
but here you are again
dancing amidst the
fallen twinkling stars
lightly treading on the
faded flowers twirling
underneath my bedroom
window with the same
tender invitation twinkling
in your eyes
and I reached for
your hand and replied
this time
and there we
danced together
the dance for the
beaten and fallen
hopeless and
faded wishes
together we danced
the Flower Dance
for ourselves
for the lost ones
in the world
and for eternity.

yesterday, I kissed and danced
in the spring rain, as it fell to the earth
in first light, then heavy drops
there was a massive gray storm cloud,
but a corner of the sky was illuminated
with the hues of a red, pink, and orange sunset
I stood there and watched
the sky cry in bliss,
then in icy agony,
and its tears are what nourishes this world
and makes it thrive.
and I know nothing ever lasts
like the wind,
everything flies away.
but the clouds,
the stars, and moon
the sunsets, and teary skies,
have always been there for me,
for us.
so yesterday,
I kissed and danced
in the spring rain.

Time pours fluidly from the clock,
it flies out the window,
hovers over my face,
mocking, nourishing the
frantic fleeting moments,
anxiety, pain, half witted smiles,
but somehow I find it grants
to me a few minutes of
soulful sea dark poetry,
sometimes it plays sound
of crashing waves, along
desolate oceans and bleak
airy days, where I sit
by myself and laugh freely
under shade of those who stay
and don't ever want to leave,
everything is unraveling,
seconds and hours urging to
take control and fight,
but as for me I sit in front
of the bleak airy soulful sea
with my dark dark poetry,
and enjoy the grayness of
the sun's muffled light.

People out there who think
they're alone I want to tell them
that they're not; we all suffer from
causes of misunderstandings,
ingratitude and from the rest of
the world's conflicts;the only difference is
how we react and live with it each day.
If we unite together, we can make a
difference and find true happiness
no matter how much they poison or suppress us
using society and reality's flaws. The first step is
to start doing your best so that
you won't have to be dependent on other people
So when the time comes to get out there
and truly find yourself, no one will be
able to hold you back. With desire comes strength
patience, and endurance, but it'll be worth it
in the end when you're free and independent....
when you're able to say you've found true happiness
and a place of where you belong.... and that you're no longer alone.

This week,
I trudged along the cold, salty
waters of the rocking ocean,

I swung my feet gracefully
and walked along the sandy shore,
a ballerina, stretching her feet
to form light, bittersweet
curse words in the sand,

I tilted my head back
to drink in all of the sky,
the stars twinkled
and swallowed me whole,

I scanned the rising horizon
for miles, reached out to abandoned shells
placed at my feet,
quietly listened to the sad, melodic
voices, of gleaming sirens
in the ocean's heart

But despite my breathlessness
in the crisp air, of the gray ocean
I still could not
find you,
the one I so yearn to meet,
the one who could
make me forget the sorrows,
the delicate, hidden pain,

the one who I deserve
to love,
because now, everything else
is no longer worth a thing,

and everyday,
is still like

the stars
going out
in my empty soul.

Lately I've been feeling
very tired,
condemned to the coarse shouts
curses, and vile bitterness
of the people around me

I feel
so utterly wronged,
and misunderstood,
having to question the sky
over and over again,

how did a simple thing,
come to such terms
in a complicated world

Every move,
every word, every
expression of life
is judged and
grudges,
are as common as
love should be.

I find myself
trapped in endless seconds,
hours, days, years
performing the same acts
over and over again,
living the same regrets

while managing to grasp onto
the despair over
a time glass whose sands
are rushing against my will,
leading to a sad,
forgotten, fate

I can not find anything
to express joy and gratitude
of the person I am,
for it is because of who I am
the world is so intent
on bringing me down,

All I can do
when I run out of breath
to fight,
is to ask
for forgiveness,

in losing to
somebody else's will.

I've been thinking too much,
help me..
like how my soul would reach across
the vast and cloudy white sky into universes beyond,
and how I'd like to gather up only
the good pieces of everyone,
the kind and caring moments
like the sprinkles on a cake overflowing with sugar,
and then when I open my eyes
all I can see are rolling farmlands and green plains,
a light gray sky filled with seagulls at the
shoreline of the blue blue salty sea,
a twinkling starry night sky with shooting stars
with a great full moon illuminating my corner of the sky,
oh, what sights
my dreams; oh, they are mine,
and I want them so very much
and I want someone too,
but I am too much
of a coward to pursue them...
I've been thinking too much,
help me.

I've
become so numb

I can't feel you there,

I've become
so tired

so much more
aware,

by becoming this,
all I want
to do

is be more

like me

and be less

like

you.

It's hard to fight when the fight ain't fair,
struggling as you climb the mountain
in an internal uphill battle for something
you never knew what to make of,
lost in the throes of other people's demands
while facing personal demons alone,
people's voices all mingling together
and brushing past your head,
leaving you dazed and isolated
as you can't seem to figure out how to
join in the conversation
and be a part of the flurry of life
happening all around you
because inside you, it never feels like
much is happening,
it's like your capability of perceiving
anything good has been switched off,
like someone violently flicked at it
and beat it in with a hammer
and stomped on it before tossing it into
the back of the memory room, where nothing
is ever remembered or taken back out again
and now when looking through
the lenses of your eyes,
everything is drab and gray, like a discoloring
filter has been applied to make sure you see
things for what they really are,
so that then there's never a chance to
mistake anything for being anything else
that you might have wanted it to be,
so you can remember to always remind yourself
that nothing, and no one, is there for you
and will ever be there for you,
because they are all caught up in the present,
a time when you are utterly insignificant
because one day someone decided to
reach back into the back of your head
and lower your voice and expressions several notches
below silence,
because it was better that way for everyone else's
convenience
they wouldn't have to worry anymore
about hearing your cries of help or anxiousness
of being lost in the throes of other people's decisions
for you
they wouldn't have to hear you
express any doubt or show your real longing
during a time when you were still able to
dream or recall a hazy yet bright idea
of what you wanted to do or study
of the life you might have wanted to make for yourself,
they wouldn't have to take care of you
when you broke down from trying to
dodge expertly concealed insults and recited misfortunes
being hurled at you from all directions
the only kind of pity present in your life
is self-pity and remorse,
self-pity because no one's pity would ever
be enough to accommodate
and remorse because you were never
good enough in the first place
and you know it all too well
and it hurts, that you can't even make things
better for yourself while fighting a fight
that ain't fair
because you don't know how to.

The fruits of another day
                     have been mashed up
       by my mother's
                treasured mortar and pestle.

   I will gather the
         crushed seeds, and    sprinkle
               them with care
  upon the freshly baked

           fluffy, strawberry
                          faith cake

          of which I will slice
                      and feed my family,
     and all of those
             wishing for a bite of love.

                    I will take the
                             sunny, sweet juices,
             drop in a handful
                          of humble tea leaves,

   pour in half a cup of
               fervent longing's
fuzzy, pink lemonade,
  
          a generous amount
  of golden, savory
                 poetry syrup,

and three spoonfuls      of my grandmother's  
            lovely minty remedy
        for calling forth
                           the spicy, sultry desire to live.

      I take my
               Lush Life's Drink
         into the Purple Midsummer Cafe,

   and quench the thirsts
                of translucent, paper people
  tolling throughout
endless
          days and nights,

          solving countless
                      math & society problems,
  writing novels of
      insecurities, acceptance,
& hope,
   
         and every evening,
all gathering at
       the Purple Midsummer Cafe

to faithfully consume    
my
     Lush Life's Drink,

          paying up the small fee of
  a tender smile or so,
         a warm enveloping hug,
                  a handshake of
               gratitude & humility.

O, great deity of the heavens
ruler of the eternal seas
bounder of day and night to threads on the threshold of time,
won't you let me rest me in peace at last?
It's been 900 years,
years of wandering and bleak emptiness,
where each day has gone by with mortals' risings and deaths,
where each second has gone by that I have not forgotten,
all who have passed away.
O Goblin, now is a time to rejoice in sadness and pain
for I have found the Goblin's Bride,
whose laughs echo through her lost soul
whose being shines bright to me everyday,
whose purpose of creation in every second,
serves to be my death.
But I the Goblin,
who has dreamed of the end for 900 years
suddenly repent in remorse at leaving
my shining Goblin Bride behind,
who suddenly seems to me
not here upon serving for my death,
but here to serve as the purpose of my existence,
of my life,
of my reason to keep living.
O, my Goblin's Bride,
I love you.

It's getting warmer

but the leaves on my trees

continue to sway and twist,
rustling
and scrunching up

until they finally break free
and are swirling away
in the wind

and just like that,

my dreams had already drifted
out of my grasp

long before I saw the real world
come into view
for the first time.

There's china on display
in madame Liu's antiques & crafts shop

so delicate and white,

preserved and rooted to
polished wooden boards

like the smile painted on my face
each day

as I glide on glistening needles

and smooth out blistering red hot, black coals,

upturned lips melting feverishly in the sun's glare

until a hurricane sweeps in

and crushes my cheekbones
so I can no longer smile.

There is rain

silver, shimmering, and wet

soaking into rich soil
and work shoes

filling my water reservoir
and feeding my flowers

granting a quenching life to all

like my tears,

blurring the lines on the paper
and making the words swirl

turning tear drops into salt crystals
that ***** my cheeks

leaking into salty oceans and seas,

until a desert heat storm sweeps in
and blasts it all away.

Look at the stars carefully
because they are pieces of my soul
scattered in the warm and windy night sky,
they are my wishes and dreams
waiting for someone to wish
the same things and make them come true,
they are my thoughts that sometimes
I can not fathom into constellations,
and they sway and dance and burst, yearning
to take each and every one of you lost ones, home.

When everything
is fading away,
I will look up towards the stars
and let myself bask
in the silver moonlight of good memories.

I will remember their smiles,
the warmth radiating through their bodies
the words and actions
they dropped on me each day,
how I always waited and listened
for their calling of my name.

I will recall their good times,
when laughter tickled them
in devilish delight
when they put their differences aside
to be happy for the moment or so,
when they shook their heads at each other
but always ended up
holding hands, and walking together anyways.

I will memorize
the jagged pieces of their hearts,
stitched
mended
held back up together
for better or for worse,
how they tried to live
without cutting themselves
with the sharp edges.

Although I think only of the good
sometimes I burst into tears,
I sob and I shudder,
sometimes I can't forgive them
most of the time
I can't forgive myself,

but in the end, I need to smile
I need to laugh,
see that twinkle in my eyes
feel the warmth bubbling inside my chest
whenever I think of them,
I remember only the good times.

darling,
(I wrote this just for you)
you don't have to please anybody; trust me, if it had been my way
the only pain you would feel would be beautiful,

when we were all born, we were our own stars
beautiful, vibrant, sparking and alive,
our own visions and lifetimes shining down different pathways of life,

and somehow, we were all innocent
like how when you cradle two different babies' hands together
they don't pull away, they don't prickle with hate or feel any pride,

although we are our own, sometimes the constellations we have with others hold us back,
like how you could love igniting fire but then find yourself
being forced to tread water your whole life,

honey, when you wipe your tears on the backs of your hands
and tell me with a strangled voice how you're so alone,
I will be there to hold you whenever you need me the most,

but I'll catch your tear drops, and stash them away in my warm pocket
I'll tell you that sometimes it's okay to be alone,
for the flashing core of each shining star
has a unique sense of being and life
that only it can understand,

so sometimes I will not be enough for you,
and that's when I'll hand over your crystal tears
so you can turn within, and be there for yourself,

and stars burn out in the end as all things do,
we're not perfect, but that was the wonderful point
and one day we'll have to let go of each other
travelling through eons of space and time before meeting again,

but in the end darling,
you are a star whose image and shine will never fade from my mind,
everything about you is meant to be beautiful;  
your pain,
your solitude,
your tears,

just know darling,
you don't have to please anybody... for you're a real piece,
of the endless starry universe.

eliminate any means
of dependence

2. perform simple everyday tasks
with grace,
and be prepared to face
the bigger ones

3. reflect upon yourself,
do what is right, and there will be
no need to feel regret

4. live for yourself,
for your happiness
that is real

5. forgive yourself first,
and then
forgive others

6. make the people
involved in your life
happy

7. let go of the past,
appreciate the present,
and embrace
the future

Steaming thick creamy broth
long slim pasta noodles
freshly sliced spring onion
chopped cilantro and clives
bright juicy lime and
grounded fiery peppers

For being priviledged enough to eat
such wonders of blended cultures
and not mud cakes
or greasy fastfood
we are thankful.

Milky, twinkling stars swiveling
in a diamond night sky are beautiful,
and the brightest one will lead you home,
but for now, I want to bring you
out into the light where at the fissure
of pale gold and orange in the blue
sky's dawn, you may suddenly draw
inspiration once again.
I would bring you to the peak of a mountain
to inhale a reservoir of fresh, crisp air
in an altitude of where you feel
you can belong, gazing out towards
the green valley and down the winding path,
leading back down to a narrow world,
but for now, (and eternity)
you can be above them all.  
I see your footsteps left behind on the
snowy cap, crunching beneath your feet
a reminder to both of us how you exist,
a humble memoir in the realness of a hurting,
beautiful being.
And in my dream when you came back
to life, we were spread out wildly on
blossoming, white clouds blown about in
warm winds, and the golden sunlight
brought out the clear, blue- gray in your eyes
and traced the freckles dabbling your cheeks
and you were just laughing,
because you were so free.
But in dark clashes of thunder, when
rain was not somebody's nourishing love
but instead painful, dark tears, there were
people's crude remarks and stark dispiritedness,
I held you tight in my arms, like a tree
sheltering a lone girl from prowling wolves
gathered your tears and turned them
into crystals, knowing one day
you'll teach yourself to throw them at
the narrow world full of paper people
and their paper ideas.
So for now, rest in the cradle
of my warm, loving palms,
and grow into the strong and beautiful
person you most want to become.

Somewhere along the way
this person will lock itself
inside the bathroom
another will lay on the bed
and shiver from the damp pillow
another will sit in the darkness
of the car just by themselves
another will slip on sneakers and
simply open the door and leave
another will peer down from
the roof of a high building
another will have earbuds in
with music cranked high
all of them will be
enveloped in wells of
tears blood and pain
for they were the ones
society couldn't handle
or accept or forgive
for having been born
the way they were or
having been forever altered by
their surroundings and lives
if society is seeking someone
to blame then just
go peer at the mirror
and peel the grotesque
repulsive mask off the face
and society ends up losing
one part of the never ending
cause of pain.

I bite my lip and
twist the corners of
my shirt over and
over again
tap my feet and
run my hands through
my curtain of hair  

My chest contracts
and I feel so
suppressed and
awakened as if
just at this moment
I crawled out of my
rock and caught a
glimpse of the daylight

I'm trying so hard
to keep the crazy
different and expanding
thoughts together because
I know they're brilliant
but they have yet to be
spoken aloud or told

but it's difficult when
you're surrounded by
demanding flawed
people who are good
people but who will never be
able to see the true
hidden wonders of the
world

like how it isn't such
a simple place to run
or live in or make up
but a place filled with
hidden treasures and
different people of a kind
who will one day come
out and unite all our
extraordinary ideas

and I swear to myself
that I will live to contribute
to that day and it will
all have been worth it
in the end because
some sacrifices exist
towards the end of time
for the greater universe
that will be brought into
existence built upon
our soulful bones and
willful shoulders and
extraordinary ideas.

And in the midst
of all my insecurities,

today

I experienced a moment of bliss

I saw pure specks of warm, cool life,
hovering in the air

and I felt the warm wind brush against my hair,
with every step I took resounding within me

and they blocked the despising glares
tuned out the sorrowfulness in my heart,

laid down
a worn, sturdy, gentle path to guide me as I walk

and whenever I get lost trying to find others,

I can follow the clusters of twinkling stars in the night sky above
back to path of where I found myself,

because I had never been lost.

We never thought to think this

but, looking for someone who you can never be
is not being lost,

it's letting yourself lose
who you really are.

And life is too much of a gift
to drown yourself in others' sorrow and call it your own,

now it feels so free
to just be who you really are.

The tumbling world is
going by in a blur,
my mechanical parts
act and speak for me,
there are smiles and
gleeful laughter,
dancing in the light
while the shadow
passes on by unnoticed,
every second I am
masterful and achieved,
a superior and stunning
actress, so incredible
I could fool the heavens,
so mind blowing that
I could fool myself,
and in the end I crawl into
bed and dream and dream,
finding no memories in my head
when I wake up heavy and numb,
it's a false light over a heavy darkness,
but if I can't even see it myself,
who could?

I was thinking about reaching out to the stars, when I suddenly felt this cold grip on me… and all in a rush, it brought me back down to reality. I remember listening to the beating of my own heart, feeling the rushing river of blood flowing through my body; I thought it was a miracle that I lived… even when there were those around me who were begging to die. I looked around and thought that everybody was okay; we were all getting along fine and there were still golden airy days, there was shimmering summer rain and silver moonlit dances… but as I got older, I looked around again and saw that behind all the smiles, the facades, the cheer and good times…  nobody was okay. And I thought that I was okay, but when I looked at myself carefully for the first time I saw my heart was very faint, and my happiness was collapsing and my soul was about to wither away. I thought that I could save myself and everyone else if I calmly took off my mask, and showed them who I really was. But just when I was opening my eyes and reaching out for the stars,  I felt this cold grip on me, and it suddenly brought me back down to reality… where everything was just an illusion that everybody was happy living in. Because I realized all along that I had just been using others as an excuse to reveal the truth, to smile in the pouring rain and let it wash away my sorrows… to let go and soar free. But it turns out that it had been just me all along, and everybody else is fine… just the way they are.

I kind of miss how it was back then. I regret alot of things, but I wish I could go back in time and relive it all, even all the things I regret. Although I may be a bit slow and stupid at times, at least I was a sincere and good willed person. I may not have known how to express myself, but I always did feel genuine happiness being around others. However, now I'm not sure whether I can continue being a genuine person anymore. Although I'm so much more insightful now, along with that insight came more bitterness and resentment to weigh me down. I'm not sure if I have the strength to let the good side of me win in the end. Life really is a struggle. All the more so when you are the only one who can acknowledge your internal struggles. All the more so when you can acknowledge the choices you can make... but you may not have the strength that it takes to not give in to the bitterness and resentment that builds as you grow older. It's so easy to let yourself go, to let your conscience drown and sink into a bottomless, deep, dark pit where there's nothing but just anger, emptiness, remorse, self pity, an empty will to live. It's so easy....
Sometimes all my words are just another hidden form of calling out for help. It makes me feel so pathetic and weak willed, but there is not much else I can do without harming myself or the people around me.
I suppose somewhere within this tangled mess of a life, I just feel lost and dazed, and alone. I don't mean anyone else harm though; I never have and never will.
I kind of miss how it was back then.
Even though I may have been a bit slow and stupid at times, even if that had been apparent, couldn't you all have just accepted, maybe even loved, me for who I was, for the innocence, sincerity, kindness, and unconditional love I expressed?

His love,
was something she wasn't used to.

She was always busy
carrying out her role on the movie set,
eyes shiny with flecks of gold,
natural dimples like sugar across her face
soft curls and velvety skin,

while life was vibrant on the outside,
it seemed to be dead within.

One day he strolled in,
she turned her head, caught his gaze, and beamed
his heart suddenly went patter--patter
my god... she's the one
he rushed back to his studio
and watched the paint strokes form her figure each time
seated beside the window, underneath the starry night sky,
so... this is what love feels like.

But when he handed her the rose
she pricked her fingers and bled,

when he embraced her with his warmth
she was as cold as icy jewelry,

when he gazed at her with longing
she continued to smile at the camera.

And so, he painted the last masterpiece
signed it with his love, and vanished

She thought:
*I'm cold within
and everything is colorless,
I laugh although I cry inside

I saw him come along
and I thought he might have been the one,
with the gold through his hair
the warmth in his smile,
the paint on his fingertips

but in the masterpieces painted,
he fell in love with
someone who doesn't exist
and thought it was me...

and I can only so much
pretend to be something that I'm not.

So now he's gone, gone to pursue someone
like the one in his painting
for a man, a painting of a woman
can never be enough....


well then, I guess I might as well
just be a painting.

We are all pathways of light
made up of our surroundings
our loved ones and friends,
we have no intention of harm
but to feel the golden ray shine
on us and our soulmates
eternal happiness granted to us
over despair and solitude,
but when things go wrong and
we are separated left with
nothing but anguish and
happen to face others who
also deal with such familiar
suffering and pain,
we clash and bear our teeth
develop sets of claws and
malicious plans and
possessiveness over something
everybody in the entire world wants,
to envelop or be enveloped
in the arms of our lovers under
the eternal golden light
and we will take whatever means
necessary to do so

even if it means restraining
that ever desired happiness
from other people,
even if it means killing them off
one by one,
even if it means that
in the end,
there will be no one left
except for you and me.

There are a few things in life
so beautiful they hurt:
swimming in the ocean while it rains,
reading alone in empty libraries,
the sea of stars that appear when you're
miles away from the neon lights of the city,
walking in the wilderness,
all the phases of the moon,
the things we do not know about the universe,
and you.

The rains have their oceans
and the sun has it's moon....
everything
  needs a
reason for
  falling

*and I
have you.

It's that trembling threshold,
the standpoints in between time
where the seconds line up
one by one,
and the dread...
trickles in with a devilish delight,

so just build a sturdy
enveloping enclosed towering wall,
made with shimmering colors
and the so- called goodness
of your world
make it shine so that
whatever you do, you
won't ever see your reflection,

Pour the state of mind
into the so- called
success of your kind,
your age, your society, your time,
even though it might hurt
to tread on a thousand glistening knives
all the way towards something
you never really cared for,
just do it,

Speak as if with
renewed strength, passion, liveliness,
paint your face beautiful
for the world to see,
although each smile of yours
may cost a thousand diamond night skies
a twinkle in the eye may cost
a fortune of the gods',
give them away to world
as if they had all been free from the start,

why do all this,
why put yourself through this,
because the little girls may see
the value behind raggedy kind dolls
but grownups, the know-it-all(s) don't
and they won't ever be able to get over
the missing buttons,
the lopsided care free smile,
the tangled loose hair,

So put on a show for them,
give them what they want
stitched back up together
stripped of worse
put on display for the world to see,
because the hardest part is not
only changing the world,
but having to change yourself in the process
to even receive recognition from it.

They are so oppressive
we can't stop the tears
from bursting just
whenever we're reminded,
this is such a hard
world to reside in,

why are they so
judgmental and cruel,
setting standards for
everything single grain
of breath and touch
from gold to dust and
well maintained tongues,
flattering attires and
polished reputations,
advertising material wealth
spewing bitterness and
treading on blooming
hearts and expanding souls,

what is their purpose
in life, and why make
the world such a
cruel inhumane place,
never aware of the
depths of sorrow and
penetrating loneliness
that take place among
souls that were supposed
to be united to shine
amidst the dark starless
eternal night, but

instead of shining we
are now forced to fight
and live lives of endless
tears and pain, for
they created such an
environment that
surely obtains the
flaws and darker
sides of human nature,

but we wish for the
world to be the best
starry place as possible,
or be it a hole
submerged in entire
darkness forever.

Give it your all to
live for the eternal
free, or else let the
whole of your soul
be enslaved to the
eternal darkness,
there is no middle
ground to tread on,
choose your path,
and live till you reach
wherever you chose
the world to be.

In the clear, calm stillness
of a chilly winter night,
where the stars twinkle
like icy diamonds in a
dark sapphire blue sky,
I feel the crisp, cold breeze
ruffling my hair and brushing
my cheeks,
hear the soft crunches of
freshly fallen snow beneath my shoes,
I look up to see twirling snowflakes
falling softly down upon the earth,
each one's intricate design
shimmering in the pale moonlight,
I catch them and peer at their
delicately crafted beauty,
but then suddenly they vanish,
leaving me alone, and wishing
that I too could vanish
along with them
and leave my presence to be mourned.

You know how it is,
to be raised by strong and caring hands
yet they are calloused, from having received rough blows
and delivering them in return,
so whenever you look upon them, they are there for you
but not for all beings,
they are droplets of water, coursing down a melting icicle,
only choosing to drop
into oceans that are known to them
and they only let themselves meddle, with swarms of their type,
and I asked,
what if I could love someone different,
someone they didn't have to understand or know
but who is also a strong, yet gentle being on the inside,
what if I could let myself spill
into all kinds of oceans and rivers, and flowing waterfall valleys of pain
and swim openly with all the life forms,
what if I could let myself bud open
like a massive, blooming, soft petaled flower
welcoming all kinds of creatures
into my companionship,
for having strong and calloused, yet gentle hands,
should mean a strong, yet gentle and open heart
capable of forever giving unconventional love,
to all in the world.