to live or to die is not my wish
to get what i deserve is what i need
i'm scared of the dark and i ask myself why
reality is dark and hell is bright

tell the world she's the girl who looks happy
and the girl who is secretly lonely

do you mind
if i
tuck you in this heart
don't you know it's falling apart?
just for tonight

do you mind
if i
kiss you in the dark
i have too many quotations mark
in my mind

so do you mind?

stumbling upon the branches
wings has been cut
skin has turned into blush

distressed
still her heart
says yes

they peeled off my skin,
shove the lies in my throat,
now i feel the need to repent!

almighty! a terrible suffering.
i allowed them to orchestrate,
sacrifice my token for help—

they petitioned to jeopardize the igloo
for this century despise the moon
and believe they must create a deeper wound

i feel scared.
i don't know why.

functioning
is hard
when people
who once adored you,
now distance themselves
from you.

how lovely it is—

sashay is acceptable and conscience is brutal
some cannot feel it, some cannot see it and some think it is futile
permissible, yes, but if one does not contain such thing
you must never trust them that much, for you can never win

we were the dark side
of the clouds whispering
to the sun how to stay bright

words haven't spilled yet
your silence is loud and clear.

in my dreams, i call you the keeper - there are millions of fireflies in the garden, asking how we made it this far. i say: it's not even far, but my throat is burning, the words starts to disappear, my hands keeps getting colder and the clock is ticking. tick tock. tick tock. tick tock.     take u s away

i’ve built so many walls around my heart that i willingly break for you.

something i've learned—
nothing is coincidence.
no one is born by accident.

it is only a matter of time;
for the years we asked why
and for the times we stayed up all night

(a letter to Orpheus)

to catch a glimpse of an unwanted occurrence
how long will I have to be a disturbance?
your eyes, always hungry for the moon's elevation
aren't we supposed to address our questions?
so, hear me out—every Wednesday
reminds me of the wild shatters
missed opportunities being tossed out the window
abruptly taken away, getting stuck in a limbo
days of the week relentlessly drifting away
like a fire losing its flame

how could i ever forget?
the silence between the loudest horns
the music bellowing like an unstoppable storm
we could have made it right
but if fear begins with me
that... serves us right.

i have always wanted to tell the mortals to bury the hatchet. but i know sustaining a war sometimes feels comfortable—a unique distraction to preoccupy our raging minds, parting ourselves from the unsatisfied society. still, everything stays. our pasts. the heartbreaks. love. the deities will never punish us for the displeasure but it will make us tick. we should know.


(ACT I. THE DEATH AT THE SINNER PARTY)

doing something for somebody who ends up lying to you is funnier than the joke itself.

let me fill up
the empty cup
with these tears
from regrets and fears.

the ones who wholeheartedly devotes are the ones who suffers the most.

the angels have brought me once again
with all the figs and then there's Josephine,
she shook my hands when all my sins
sunken deep into the water I could still dive in
vanilla dreams, that's why I bought it
I might be reckless and he might be adrift
crippled by the anchor and tossed by a scale
to be vile is easy until you have to admit that you fail
if he weren't a prince and I wasn't a flame
then he was a game I couldn't blame

unprecedented, Josephine says.
with a cup of tea, I have been sold to a past
one for the cigarette and one for the lass
The 4th of May ended well for everyone but me
and heaven was too confident I could handle it
it was too early to cry so I stared at the screen instead
I will privately pour the glass with my words unsaid
not the wine, not today, not tonight
if I'm weighing you down, here is a green light

call me the loudest sinner
floating, scattering my trash in the sea
with my unsuspected heartbreaks in winter.

(we brew a damsel's flesh... then make a gentleman drink, for what's left has to be given and what we can only give... epic. ourselves.)

once they swallow my vision and rosy touch,
they might as well have swallowed my tribulation and such.

paradise
is wherever
you are,
love.

What drives my mind crazy
the stillness of the rain
when our heads are exploding
miraculously pounding,
begging for deliberated smiles
the fingers might have bled
from circumstances we could never stop
to interfere could make it worse...
but my knee jolted when no one knocked,
my industrious heart, pleading to be let go of.

Bull's eye. I have dreamed about this not so long ago.

Do you ever wonder what's inside a basket full of shame?
that actually resembles to a pack of soul we filled
when the stories have been torn, pages by pages
when the river stopped overflowing, now it is dreaded.

Even when I'm sleeping
I can feel my heart dropping, melting
like an avalanche...
at least it's still beating, right?

I want to want affection, I must never attach nor kiss
My hands found the greatest tale, should I dismiss?
All I wear is darkness; nevertheless, the story remains
How it keeps me pure and consumed, I can never explain

By default, I feed my hungry eyes with our vices
I can never cast away the madness; you are the nicest
I questioned myself for doubting the unrevealed
It hurts to be awake for it has always been real

You are so serene, how could I ever forget?
I convinced myself to turn away and it made me upset
My team, we know we will always go to extreme
After all, what is hope without its dream?

In an empty ballet room, I grasped a blue spellbook with unknown proximity. Its enthralling sensation made me realized that I truly never mastered the ability to feel withdrawn. There are certain things in life that I cannot look away from—such as enticing gestures, delicate scenery and a glass full of wine. I am who I am and none of the people I have met or I will meet can change that.

I had this clarity that I have to feel big, even in small spaces and that I don't have to feel small in crowded places. Although I sing a different song when I am alone—fearful yet incandescent, and sometimes menacing, at least for me—my own colors can be atrocious, and yes, I love it.

(You’re having sleepless nights.)

What a shame. I was about to tell you about the moon’s magical powers and its ability to protest. Heaven says everything would be fine, but still, I cannot comprehend the past and how cryptic it is when the truth has been denounced.

(There are certain words that my mouth will never say but that does not stop me from speaking. I’d give my heart away in the blink of an eye, if I must, for the truth.)

Now, call me, the contagious witch.
For I am always howling for the truth.

And what a shame to agree with dissipation.

You must be thoroughly blind.

I like going to the dark places
without even thinking
that I could possibly
get drown with my own thoughts
and whispers from the shadows
but I'd tell you something
you don't know about me
I have always felt alive
and alone at the same time
I have felt the lights dimming
in front of my eyes while I lay my cards
I have seen the terror in the hands
of the unknown
I have seen my own shattered heart
always at bay
and perhaps, that's the reason why
no one wants to stay

do you see me, sir, as a foolish maiden?
excuse my manner but how could you?