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xx May 2017
I found myself under
the dance of flashing lights
and dimming night,
of talking clouds
and breathing hours,
the hands of time
would tick in his hand;
loud enough he told me
as his voice reverberates in my ear,
"Welcome to Wonderland."
  Jul 2016 xx
Emily Dickinson

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
  The maddest noise that grows,—
The birds, they make it in the spring,
  At night’s delicious close.

Between the March and April line—
  That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
  Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
  That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
  Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
  And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
  Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
  As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
  So dangerously near.
xx Jul 2016
When all the love is pure,
when your hope and faith is full,
when the ocean isn't pulling back,
the setting sun is yours to touch.
When lips would wake you up
and lips would bid good night--
fall as a fog into the gloomy woods
for your love knows no sun and moon.
When the storm is just a whisper
and the weather is just a news--
you are the burn and the shiver
between his pillows and sheets.
When all of these had faded fast
*I'll remember you as my first and last.
xx Jul 2016
"In this wold,
we are just words.
And we need space
to be understood."
xx Jun 2016
"We roam the cities of yesterday
every time we wake up for
tomorrow's morning
just to find out that our souls
are lost somewhere between*
*the fading sun and the rising night."
xx Jun 2016
Every **** night, I wake up here--
under the sheets of the stars
and the smoke of burning glaciers;
where the world chases me
through doors and hanging cliffs.
I run miles in repeat undoubtedly
like I am meant to, but I'm not.
But am I really meant to?
Every **** night, I am clouded
with the lullaby of fears,
fading lives, and cries of demons.
Every **** night, I wake up here--
from counting sheep each night
to fall to waking up
in a dream of killing of oneself.
just go to sleep
xx Mar 2016
Through the thick walls of this building,
the coldness of yesterday's promise crawls
and haunts me around in a maze of halls
where neither end nor start exists.
No holes or doors, windows and rooms
I placed myself in a game
where insanity blooms.
The days kept running and nights kept coming.
I slowly grew gray and pale
and my nourishment, drained.
I withered to dusts and became nothing
for I waited eternity to arrive
but made a visitor in me.
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