As the years go by
and my mind abides
to the pressures complied
by society's twisted lies,
I will remember you.

You who lent me a hand,
you who reminded me who I am
who told me to stay strong and pretend
that everything will last to the end
so that I wouldn't ever have to be
left alone again.

The world is broken
the inhabitants are blank
have a stranger's pity as a token
of our low and regretful ranks

in the minds of the intelligent
in the shoulders of the brave
in the arms of the resilient
in the souls of the saved

I witness the pain
and anger and fear
of the day it will rain
those sad empty tears

the rivers will dry up
the flowers will fade
softness will become tough
and hearts will decay

but souls will hover
and love will always stay
and beings will discover
the dawn of a new day

As every morning I rise
tilt my head towards the sky
see your face in the clouds
say your name out aloud
wait for awhile
for my weary old smile

as the sun gives a tour
of the world you died for
as my life continues on
pass the beings long gone,

I will remember you.

This feeling of uselessness and empty happiness
has become something I depend on
to get through each day,
one by one flowing into years, then decades.
I can't remember if there was ever a time
when I didn't feel this way--
an alert, naive, too-trusting mindless bird
darting this way and that, searching and searching
for love, compassion, and acceptance;
anything that was warm.
Then gradually, alone in my room,
I begin to grow up,
my body stretching, my mind struggling
with all the new space that's appeared in my head,
while getting accustomed to bleakness, uncertainty,
and a sense of mourning for a better life story.
The expectations just get persistent,
while the people I care about begin to wear out,
and I continue to spend my days wandering around,
feeling faded and useless at the time of my prime.
I know how fortunate I am, how good my conditions are
compared to most people, the intentions are true and priceless
with love and sacrifice.
But sometimes, I can't help but wish
I could have been able to walk my own path from the start--
not having to focus on solely being successful,
but discovering what actually makes me happy,
and being able to make it my lifestyle.
At this point, wanting to be genuinely happy seems selfish,
ungrateful, and a crime
because my happiness isn't valuable or profitable,
or useful, or worth the sacrifices and investment
put into making the future a brighter place to envision.
I hope I begin to do better,
that I begin to put all my effort into improving myself
for the my own sake, and for the worn out people I care about.
I guess this might be my own quiet, selfless sacrifice,
lost among the prevailing expectations
that I do well regardless.

Remember when we sat up there
on your roof
laughing at the stars and wishing
on the moon
and you turned to me and said,
"I wanna be with you"
but even in that moment, we already
kinda knew
that every single high would
hit the bottom low
all my broken lies would take me
far from home
stuck in my broke car driving down
the highway to hell
while thinking about how I left you
all alone
I guess "sorry to my lover and best friend"
is all I will ever know

I have a Sad Song
I've memorized the tune,

and although I
sometimes collapse inside
I am still always on my feet,

when I look around
the world is in
different shades

of all kinds of colors,
of all kinds of Utopias

flowering in their own uniqueness,

but they can't coexist

you can only choose
one Utopia to be truly devoted to,

one of where you can walk
the pathways of happiness
by memory, by heart,

I may think everyone
can be friends with me,
but time helped me finally realize
I wouldn't ever be a friend to them,

only people who are the same
who understand
can play the game,

and I think it makes me sad
there will never be a place
of where I truly belong,

never a place to call my home,
never any outstretched arms,
only places of where

I can share my Sad Song.

Whoever opens their mouths
and says,
you can be anything
you want to be because
you'll always be different and unique...
are lying to themselves
and to you,
because they're just
talking about all they've ever known
which probably
has never been much.
Cause I know
I will probably end up
being an adult,
who never really knew
how to grow up
and identify myself
just like that.
Cause they put limits to
what you can do,
who can you be,
how you can live,
and then expect you to
make yourself be unique and different
living under the same roof as
the world?

When I was
a young boy (girl)
my father took me into the city
to see a marching band
He said son (daughter)
when you grow up
will you be the savior of the beaten
the broken and the ******

dear father I never had
how could I be the savior
of the beaten
the broken and the ******
when I couldn't even be
the savior of myself.

You are smiling in the picture
curly hair ruffled and a defined living jawline
teeth gleaming and soft wrinkles around the eyes

It is a warm and windy day
the sky a pool that is sepia colored
the squirrels dance and the birds fly
and chairs, picnic blankets and banquets
are strewn across the lawn
children's feet dart across the grownups
who are busy questioning themselves or falling in love

there is flowing tipsy music
musicians in gloves, suits and mustaches
a sole lovely flute woman in a silk kimono
two dancers: one with feet bound embracing the earth
and the other as free and light as the wind,
relishing in the sky  

for some unknown reason
everyone is united,
feeling free as air
and content as living life itself

and I clutch the camera
crouching down in over-sized denim overalls
messy bun intact, colorful painters' fingers
settling with a smooth anticipation to wait,
the perfect moment will be here any time soon

And the cloud lets out a special airy breath just for you
so when you glance up at the sepia colored sky
and float back down to the earth below,

you are smiling in the picture
curly hair ruffled and a defined living jawline
teeth gleaming and soft wrinkles around the eyes.

All I feel is remorse and a longing
for my wasted and undeveloped,
malnourished potential
for the arts.
How I long to write,
spilling my thoughts and words
onto beckoning sheets of blank paper.
How I wish I could draw and outline,
bringing to life scenes, memories,
and figments of my imagination
in which I always envision and depict myself
as a more vivid
and entrancing individual.
I feel completely isolated and pathetic,
unable to connect the dots,
trampled on by the success
and the never ending bits of small and large
investments of effort
that my peers have the potential to conjure up,
while I writhe and struggle with just forcing myself to
face the responsibilities and challenges,
only to find myself crawling into bed every night
having accomplished nothing.
I feel starved of life and companionship,
as I look around and see others
who I might’ve longed to be friends with,
brush past me without a glimpse
or a moment of hesitation,
as if I were a humanless shadow in their path
that formed out of nowhere.
The more time that passes by,
the more I feel myself slipping away.
Unable to think, unable to speak coherently
in the sense of complete honesty,
I can only dream of a world
in which my journey aligns with the stars of my dreams.

Oh you,
why do you no longer try?
where has the sense of life slipped away to,
the sudden fleeting but warm and pleasant
moments that ignite a tender sparkle in your eyes,
where is the clear, ringing laugh resounding from
your heart, where went the desire to raise the corner
of your soft, cherry lips in a half- suppressed, bemused smile
why no longer do your hands dance upon the paper,
pressing the dark lead onto the open space consuming
your delicacies of ideas and marks of thriving color,
why ever neglect to gaze towards the fresh fields
and drink in the golden sunset gracefully falling
into your tenderly cupped hands, and let the warm,
sweet breeze kiss your soft, rosy face, let the magical
glowing lantern lights of fireflies light your way home,
let me hear you speak again, your soft, strong, poetic voice
your penetrating, rough and smooth deep words
cradling new inspirations in my mind,
let me see you turn your face to the horizon once again
with a look of enlightened awe and love,
show me again that the world is something to fight for,
that life is worth living and we may die
but we never lose the best parts of ourselves, the ones
we grow into, the ones where we learn how to
value and forgive, love and remember,

Please,
**show me again

that life is worth living.

I look up at the stars
oh, how lonely we are tonight
trails of silver moonlight
streaming down our faces,

we weep for the lost joys
in life, the ones kept hidden
and never found, whatever
they may be, we dream
one day they will be free,

to share their joy and
take away our emptiness,
longing, and sadness
why should the world
be such a bitter place,
why should we have to live
in such sorrow, when
there could always be
a better tomorrow,

why is this simple thing
this one warm ray of light,
this simple cherishing smile
able to capture the fleeting
moment and hold it against
one's beating heart,

why is it so hard to find
why is it never permitted
to shine, why is it always
misinterpreted, and
mistaken for many other
things?

Above me hovers endless sky--
dark, calm, tranquil, and flowing
I see my reflection in the occasional ripple of stars;
wilted hair, hunched spine, smudged, muddy eyes
I hate how it so clearly displays
my pathetic, pitiful, existence--
a life laced with strife underneath gold
spread on the surface
symbols traced on walls, willowy and enchanting
mistaken by outsiders as representing
a record of aspirations,
I am the sole figure who knows the truth:
that it's a record of my flaws and regrets
I've managed to make it this far--
an entanglement of blessings, luck,
opportunities, strangers' pity,
a system's willingness, and my own work
but I know it's not enough,
and I'm uncertain of how much longer
I can continue to pitch my complexity and worth--
just hoping that when the dam bursts
with the arrival of the truth;
the moment I can no longer pretend
everything is okay....
just hoping that mom and dad
will still love me for who I am,

and that the world will leave me alone

When you look at me
whether with scorn
or admiration
or vengeance
just remember that I am human too.

I may seem like
a great caring person
I may seem trustful and right
full of hope and as close to perfect
as someone could seem to be
but in reality
there is not much of a difference
between you and me

There will always be something
to hide and to hide from
mistakes are humans and humans bring
fear and make humans fearsome
those eyes and that smile
would never seem to be tear-some
but every second in a while
life is tainted and gruesome

each moment of agony and pain
will never cease to slip away
but the soul will forever be stained
broken and tattered hidden it lays
underneath weary eyelids and dusty fingernails
soft area behind pink velvet ears
along the nape of the neck it'll crawl slip and trail
along the pathway of smiling masks and tears.

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.

"Have some fire.
Be unstoppable.
Be a force of nature.
Be better than anyone here,
and don't give a ****
what anyone thinks.
There are no teams here,
no buddies.
You're on your own.
Be on your own."

When my eyes yearn for
acceptance, remembrance, and love
my soul will refuse to
let my mind wither away from
disappointments over discovering
that life isn't always
creamy coffee and lovely poetry
and cuddling around a warm hearth
or parking your car in
the middle of nowhere and
dancing underneath shooting stars,
sometimes, it's just
everlasting shades of pain
and grasps of time slipping away
and losing yourself
in a flurry of life around you.
sometimes while living
we feel as if we are dying,
and in those moments
we must have fire
and be unstoppable,
a force of nature
better than anyone else
never listening to others' wallows,
and all of the time,
I am the only person
who can change, move on
and live my life.

Sometime ago she existed,
trailing length of sky blue silk
milky pearls and jasmine flowers
twinkling wrinkles around starry eyes,
as she humbly gazed up towards a
full and sensuous moon
amidst the crumbling city walls,
the ever changing landscapes of
destruction and remorse,
sometime ago he existed,
folds of white linen
perfectly creased pants and
sturdy mass boots fitting strong legs,
he stood raising towards the
almighty fiery sun,
taking the vows of a greater
spirit and an honorable duty
amidst the hurling arrows,
jabbing swords and
doubtless bullets,
sometime ago I understood
what it meant to be a good person,
what to believe and how to behave,
but now I can no longer hear
the cry of my inner spirit,
the sound of the crashing waves,
the desolate sorrow of the
greater good's longing,
I can't tell of whether
nice or awful people,
can't speak words of hope
and expressions of gratitude,
can't see straight in the eye
of those blind who were once
able to see because I have
became a person who used to see
but is now blind and deaf,
I don't know how to answer
the world anymore
because I lost myself
a long time ago,

But sometime ago
I existed.

As time swirls around,
yet still managing to drain me of my essence,
I now struggle with the strength needed
to read, persevere, understand,
to try, love, and live

Once upon a time,
this person with a book could last for eternity
the characters' light never failed to reach
within to a clumsy, pure spirit
all words were full of beauty, meaning,
and something to shield a hurt, soft, soul
from reality's greater, never ending, flaws

All along, I was completely sure of myself
as a soul of humanity's good,
a warm, comforting light to they
who were lost, with no sense of direction
such as me,

Then, the moments arrive
where a person discovers every flaw of themselves,
where a never ending strength
could morph into relentless anger and remorse,

Where I discover
I am far too much of a
penetrable, ignorant, weak characterized being
lacking a will with enough strength
to rid oneself of even the most smallest fears,

I have grown with time
in some ways others could notice,
although a new, clear view of the world
has its great toll of compromises,

But, deep in the hollow, damp, cave
something has remained the same,

There is a gray, forever shifting
impossible shallowless
that shadows me everywhere
regardless of what I change
despite all the efforts, and how much I try,

Nowadays, I peer with wide eyes into the darkness
and succumb to a lavishly dark thought,
that this must be where
all of humanity conjured up
the elastic, nerve racking, electric,
frightening idea of
a so called fate,

I feel numb,
as if somehow already perceiving
every choice, feeling, action, word, is pointless
as if already knowing
yes, no matter how much you try
some things really are, forever impossible.

I can't discover anything
that will bring a soul
out a creeping, old well full of
densely dark oil,
containing someone with a
slippery grasp on their surroundings

and a very, very
heavy heart

I no longer want to look at words,
they swim in my head
and corner my pitiful, strenuous brain
that tries each day, to make sense
of everything that appears to be senseless,

I'd like to get away
from everything fluorescent and slick, and retreat to the corners
of a wooden, green, world filled with
sunshine, and blossoming,
sharp-witted flowers,

I'd like to take a moment appreciating
autumn leaves swirl in crisp, refreshing air,
rather than having to shiver from the
relentless cold, that each day forces my will
to desire only two things:
my bedroom,
and solitude

I'd like to decide, for once,
what I do,
how I live,
and where I would like to end up.

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.

Sorry for all the things I couldn't give you
the disappointment I turned out to be
not the typical excellent polished gleaming marble statue
but a shy weathered away and graying figure
frozen among such spirited people in the world
forgive me for trying to move along with them
for wanting to live and find myself and others
for not wanting to be a perfectly polished statue frozen in time forever to be adored
then stuffed away in the back of a rusty old shed
then melted away and forgotten what my remains had once been instead
forgive me I'm sorry
that among the lies of your world I was the truth
but I couldn't find the strength within the bottom of my soul
to forgive you and let you know.

To whoever matters,

sorry for not being able to sort out my priorities

sorry for giving into life's surroundings
and losing myself

sorry for being a disappointment
because I will never be enough

sorry for being a failure
no matter how hard I try and then

sorry for not trying as hard anymore
because there are so many out there who will always be better

sorry for just not being able to give a **** sometimes
because everything important is just pieces of paper
waiting for someone to burn them

sorry for making you work so hard
when I know I'm not worth it

sorry for never learning from my mistakes because
I'm too dumb to figure them out or even remember
what they are to me

sorry for being so mad at the world that I can't
seem to be a positive or understanding person anymore

sorry for hating who I am but never taking the time to reflect
on things and thinking about the things I could change

sorry for being so self-absorbed and centered at times

sorry for being so hurt that I want to hurt every person in the world

sorry for not being in control of my life and

sorry for no longer trying to fight for it

sorry for always having to regret everything
to let anger overwhelm me in the moment and

brand a broken heart on the future's arrival
to the present

sorry for falling into a bottomless pit and
not being strong enough to climb back out

sorry for always thinking about the ending
before taking the chance to live

sorry for not being sorry enough to have
what it takes to get up and try to be
the person I want to be.

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.

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.

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.

Words on a blank page,
I can no longer think or dream
of shining among the stars
and cupping the sunset, to drink from my hands
I caught a swirling, pale snowflake
as it melted into a tear before I could appreciate its beauty,
I feel starved of affection
as I watch my mother endure, my father become worn
I touched a flower that blossomed too fast
stoking its beauty with regrets in the morning's soft, silver dew
in my head, I sit at my desk, alone in the night
watching myself write tears in the candle light,
gazing up at the moon, and all the stars I know are up there,
but never within my weary, aching sight.

I wish there was a term to describe the sensation
of thinking too much about the end....
and the shadowy outline of the plot in between.
Yet, when I look up from my phone to discover
the hours have flown by drowned in hyper, tuned voices
blended together,
bright, artificial colors radiating from a screen,
profanity and insensitive depictions of life
scattered across the interface of the internet
like shattered scraps of stars and meteors in the galaxy,
I realize that I wasn't ever really thinking at all,
drowning out life's mysteries in the undiscovered depths
of the ocean
and my quest to seek knowledge so expansive
that I'd wrap it around the universe twice,
I chose not to look outside and see the present forces of nature
and its boundaries in a world of mankind and destruction,
didn't really want to listen to what my parents
needed me to hear; the moments when I should've grown
a layer of maturity and capability to support us all
in an environment in need of drastic change
and improvement,
didn't say the words my brother needed to
hear and process;
the jumbled up pieces of advice and experience
from a responsible older sister who was able to
put on her big girl pants and educate him
about the crooked ways of the world,
and didn't build up the hard shell of defense
against the addicting symptoms of depression and anxiety
from a society that is materialistic, sensual,
and rotten to the core.
All this time, enveloped in the gray static of my own mind,
never able to break free because  I couldn't concentrate,
and there were so many things more appealing
that flashed across my screen,
so many other realities I'd rather live in.
In the end, it all just comes back to this:
my inability to be present and to feel worth in
my own existence as a human being.
I wish there was a term to describe a person who means well,
who can envision herself striving to become
a more dynamic, open, and thoughtful person
who used to be told by others that she worries and thinks too much,
who used to be able to feel the weight of her family's value
on her shoulders,
but who also now at the same time struggles
to stay and confront the cruel reality of the world that actually exists,
who can't help but flash pretty scenery,
and listen to flowing sugary words,
and stare at beautiful illusions across her screen
to keep herself sane and awake,
who has to convince herself time and again
of the evidence that she exists,
an entity that is just as much as everyone else
entitled to a sense of life,
and who needs to remember that pain
is something to learn and grow from,
not just an excuse to tune out from the world's problems
and forever dwell in gray mindless static.

Our smiles are
translucent enough to
admit the dull faded light
of bits of socializing happiness
and tired admiration
softly on our faces
but the heart in each
has a black ink sword
flowing the river styx
wedged into the arteries
searching for both the
golden magnificent humbly
carved door and also the
forbidden door of
chaos and despair
we go throughout
our lives living out
each day with a
dull face towards tomorrow
and legs and hands
and minds and mouths
performing deeds of what
we're told to do and say
how to act and how to play
the parts of those living
day by day
who will always be uncertain
of whether choosing to leave
or to stay.

my sanity floats upon
the single lovely flute tune
riding on the soft breeze
fluttering through my open
window
on a clear, starless diamond
night sky

It's been awhile since we've met up
been awhile since you've stopped lighting up my dark eyes
or bringing out my crooked teeth from underneath
my paper thin dreary gray lips
it seems like it's been forever since the day
my lungs were still able to take air for granted
because back then my throat didn't close up
and my lips weren't clamped shut to contain the void
left inside after my voice had fled
I can still vaguely recall how it felt back then
waking up each morning in a light *****, energetic
springy, vibrant body; legs as weightless as twigs
and feet so free like flower petals
with shoulders that would carry the world for someone
because there were not yet any rocks slung at them
and not yet any burdens piled on top
I definitely remember all the colors and the warmth in the breeze
when life was a beautiful huge sunset in the afternoon
and a cascade of freckled stars and shimmering moon
during the night
before the sun suddenly became a signal for the start
of another reluctant day and the night turned into
sorrowful darkness seeping into my bones throughout the night
and I most certainly wish I could step back through the folds of time
and relive that brief yet steady moment
when waking up didn't feel like such a burden
and you were still around tucked in my chest
stocked up with laughter
as the medicine to whatever pain I ended up succumbing to.

I yearn for something
bright, and warm,
and soft,
and glowing, and gentle,
and kind,
like a blanket of flowing sunshine
engulfing me,
creating a cocoon of kindness
to shelter me from
the outside world, and
everything in between,
I want to feel safe, and loved,
freed from inner demons
and jabbing words,
and tainted stares,
taken away and hidden
from poison,
my skin and eyes glowing,
my mind a vast, welcoming
pale blue sky
my lips a creamy peach,
tasting sweet honeysuckle drops
on my tongue,
I want to breathe easily
air as fresh, and clean,
and pure with the essence
of innocence, and
hushed, content breaths
of peace,
I want to curl up
into a ball, and
be my own savior,
wipe my own tears, and
preserve my own laughs
and soft, genuine words,
I want to be left alone,
alone from guilt, and fear,
and the red threads
of fate, tying me to
others, who make me regret
my existence, and every breath
I inhale,
and every broken step I take,
I just want to be
free and forgotten from it all,
to just be safe and sound
in my cozy little, but wide
room of warmth,
and softness, and solitude,
I will forever dance
like a beam of sunlight,
twirling softly in a palm,
always out of reach,
like a forgotten dream.

But I still stay,

cause you're the
only thing
I know.

So won't you take

oh,

won't you
take me home.

You can hold my hand,

and I can give you
my heart,

so won't you

look into
the depths of my soul

and languish in the dark,

And I'm still finding,

where I can belong

so won't you
find me,

an' know who I am.

And I still stay,

cause you're the
only thing
I know.

So won't you
take,

*oh,

won't you take me home.

Standing on the brink of despair

perched between

the familiar grounds of a cruel world---

and the dark unknown vastness

of unexplored dangerous lands,

I relish in the warmth of your alluring smile

I trust that when all else fails me,

that is, when my reasoning and values, fail me

you will be able to

bring me back from the edge

and breathe warm life into my surroundings

because however cold and cruel it might be,

this world is the only thing that I have.

Winds of wrath
strangle thoughtfulness,
pure hate courses
through veins that
suffer after effects,
like coming down from
raging high peak to
shallow heavy waters
mind engulfed in anger,
wrath upon darkness
finding satisfaction in
cold words and
the swinging of an ax,
finding sorrowful
calm in blood let loose,
relishing pain found in
the fault in our stars.

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.

The rain splatters on stained sidewalks
and polishes pebbles on the
slick, gray road packed with cars
and hustling people caught up
in traffic jams,
the sky above is stormy gray
yet calm; there's a settled beauty
within a dreary, wet day
I'm walking amidst the busy street,
rainboots, high heels and
dress shoes all alike flowing
along from offices and
buildings and schools
and whatever places of importance
to get home, where it's nice and dry
and there's someone warm
waiting inside,
There's the coffee shop and bookstore
I always go to on
rainy days like this one
to watch the flurry of movement
outside as I sit contentedly
sipping my steaming mug of
dark coffee and turning the pages
of a worn book to greet my small
friends on every page,
But today I am one of the
paper folks out on the street,
weighed down by heavy coats and hats
and dress shoes
walking hurriedly against the blowing wind,
I board the subway, with its mix
of gray-blue seats filled with
lost faced people glancing out
the clear windows
and the isles are held by standing people
glancing at their watches,
the moment reminds me of
Daniel Powter's song, Bad Day
where the woman sits down
not far from a settled love
of two people leaning on each other
and she brushes away the distant thought
that she is alone,
and the fluorescent light
preserves the moment in my head
and I glance around wondering
if there would happen to be
a moment like that for me to take,
and I see a guy
with tangled hair and jade green eyes
standing a short distance away
watching me, and he smiles
before turning back to the girl
beside him
and that moment reminds me of
James Blunt's song, You're Beautiful
because I feel a twinge of curious sadness
as he puts his arm around her
and for an instant
I pretend the girl is me before
turning away,
I look up and the sky is still
stormy yet bright, and everything is
going by in a blur;
the trees a mash
of brown and evergreen
red and blue houses blending into
their pink and white shutters,
I catch a glimpse of a man and a woman
engulfed in each other's arms
kissing, standing on the porch
of their white two story house
with yellow shutters
and in that moment I feel like
the ******* the train,
dazed from a strange fantasy in my head
happening to play out on the screen
of a reality that never really
turns out right,
I close my eyes the rest of the way
and let myself drift apart
before joining the stream of paper people
stepping out of the train
and walking off into the distance.

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.

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.

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.

Cheers to the
goodness in the world
I drink to and give thanks for
the ones who were once puppets
but tugged and broke free from their strings
and worked their ways towards beating hearts
thanks for those not afraid
to share their awesome worthy thoughts
with everyone else in the world
and thanks for those who might just happen to listen
such a thing as being different and true
no matter what they seem to think of you
to those who try to help others change
always pushed away but so persistent and very forgiving
thanks for their very existence
their cherishing everlasting true good selves
who know to open their eyes
and want to help the blind ones see
thank you for all the goodness in the world
and the little persistent goodness in me.

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?

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.

how is it
that I can imagine vastly different worlds  
and tell the stories of their people long gone
and paint the linings of universes
near and far,

but I can't seem to
make myself face my own reality
within this world,
my head weighed down like a block of granite
corroding in acidic water,

I used to feel apologetic,
scribbling sorry on tiny scrapes of paper
and tucking them on people's windowpanes
but now, I feel empty headed
and blank,
incapable of making myself think,
stuck laying on my bed in the dark,
staring at the ceiling
in the middle of the night

how is it that in this world,
I can't seem to find anyone to talk to
not even just one person
who'd be willing to listen to what I have to say
with no judgement and pity attached,  

how is it that ever since I was young,
I realized I'd rather live
the lives of other people,
wishing I could dive right into the stories I read,
morphing myself into the main character
with their assured happy lives and endings,

how is it that
I can only get this far in my life

My thoughts are jumbled up pieces
of scattered paper
tissue soden brains and
flecks of dusty gold
flung across peaks and valleys
of snowy isolated mountains
rapidly floating upon
a commoner's luxurious terrace
a dog's humane mannerly gentleness
a young one's elderly smile.