don't be surprised if
my heart is at the bottom
of a barrel of
flowers and pointy daggers —
mind the cuts as you reach down

now I know my type
— I keep falling for someone
who won't jᵘmp with me

focusing on my
pain is how I lose the hand
I'm holding right now

glorious rain — we
are a storm within these walls
made of two bodies

our days came with rain
the cold kissed my lips — I wish
                           you did it instead

confession: I thought
the THREE-BODY PROBLEM was
an old ****** case

treacherous are my
own thoughts — for they are daggers
I hold on the blade

infidelity
can be to one's own self for
choosing another
person's happiness over
being faithful to your own

inside the tunnel
the clown made you cry again
I promise not to

you ought to be hanged
for the way you stare — gold-framed
in a museum

flowers and dried leaves —
these GRAVESTONES neatly ALIGNED
  just like office desks
    and cars stuck in traffic jams
      and spreadsheets with empty cells

if you wish to know
me, start slow — I'm an image
still painting itself

head raised to the sky —
in a way, praying you won't
stop what you're doing

not in my room — yet
out here in the midst of this
storm — I feel at home

the thing about it —
walking for miles with storm clouds
overhead is that
the sun becomes a distant
memory, and the shade — home

how long have I been
living a stranger to my
very own longing?

if I don't know what
I want, do I even know
who I really am?

you hear my nightmares
because no one would take them
and you would tell me
you had one too last night as
if it's not mere chance — but fate

right at that moment
when the sun disappeared, I
should've broke orbit
instead I stayed in place — stuck
exactly where you left me

YOU emanate GRACE
that to say — you're beautiful
would be           REDUNDANT

lost — yet again — like
the only thing I succeed
in is in failing

I carry you with
me — heavy keys to locks that
I no longer have

your kind
of gorgeous
brings me
to my knees
so hard —
it shouldn't
be allowed

if you're the sea I'd
easily drown in — I am
the sea-beaten cliff
you can safely wonder from —
of carelessly jumping off

will you call my name
again, the one with double
letters where yours have

if I end up
                   dead
to you,
             I hope you'll keep all
the green bones left at
the funeral pyre — show them
to me the next time we meet

all night, we pretend
not to notice each other —
like a warm cold war

to those who told me
they did it for my own good —
I'm not good — what now?

keeping a secret
was a spark in my bare hands
'til it was  —  the SUN

for eight hours a day
I die at my office desk —
and then I drive home

I can explain the
concept of infinity
better than I can
comprehend the breadth and depth
of the space you have for me

up at 2 am
— chasing after something lost
like I'm losing time

things I left unsaid
walks the plank that is my
tongue, but they won't jump
and now roam my mouth — ghosts with
a LIFE more DEAD than ALIVE

why does thunderclap
over a sunlit sky — feel
like an oath you'd break

but then the rain came
where each drop planted a kiss
on my skin — sweet, soft
and tender — exactly where
you promised each one will be

now each thunderclap
over a sunlit sky — is
hope I believe in

the sound of rain on
a moving train makes me wish
the trip was longer

is it because I
have yet to taste that I have
yet to
           understand

I might as well live
in my very own country
— PROCRASTINATION

even I can't tell
anymore, which of the things
                    I say are true / lies
but for some unknown reason
you're here, you know who I am

maybe it's not them
you miss — perhaps it's yourself
                back when you're happy

I'd like to take your
glasses off someday, and set
them on a table
then I'll lean forward, as slow
as the way
                        you
             stir
                        your
             cup

I can change the room
but every time you enter
all the noise softens

if you didn't sleep
last night, did today ever
turned to tomorrow

know that if I leave
I didn't stop choosing you —
I stopped choosing me

our love can take a
different shape, HISTORY —
the one we shared — won't

in the end, it's not
the time difference but the
difference in us

sometimes people choke
on something edible or
wild — like his secrets

you wear my shirt from
the night before like it's your
turn to fill my space

to savor and taste
where there was only hunger
just the night before

my skin is foreign
land — just as my hand is a
foreigner on yours

does it keep you up
at night — waiting for the when
in WHEN I GROW UP . . .

fleeting orange sky
stop — before I sing sadly
through dark winter nights