Sometimes, I wish my soul
Wasn't so sensitive
I extend my exposed hand out
For others to grab
Sometimes, my reach
Is acknowledged and held onto
Other times, it's crushed
With the overwhelming and
Presumptuous weight
Of being a burden and
A disappointment

This pain is very strong
This suffering tugs and
Drags me down
A sinkhole that I don't even
Notice I'm falling through

Until it's too late
Until I feel lightheaded
When my heart beats
In fluttering patterns
Until my chest tightens
And I feel a knot in my throat

It's hard to swallow this air I breathe
For at times, it's so dense and thick
But there's no fog, no illusion
Just allusions to the fact
That I'm tired...
Fatigued...
Exhausted...
A barren tree
A lot of life to give
But an abandoned seed
In my mind
That's what my demons tell me

This is my story of triumph
That I'm still writing
This is my journey
That I'm still fighting.

O,
my mind,
won't you meet me alone?
When the Earth's eyes close
And the valley winds blow.
To ensure,
Being clear,
That none could see nor hear
None of the throes nor fears
Reflected through shattered mirrors.
As ashamed as I am, cautious as I am aware
That,
as I am,
in this state of disrepair,
I’ve walked upon an anxious, lengthening pier,
That leads to the middle of the ocean, only to stare,
At the waves of defeat that, underneath do quake.
For still beating is my heart, so even though it aches
As the disappearance of you leaves unconsciousness in its wake,
Seeing how perilous the seas may be, to only drown in a lake,
To perhaps resurface once more in the following morn,
Is a promised hope wherein dreams dissipate forsworn

A charming physician
Specializes in Internal Med
Whenever I see her
Do her rotation
I wish I am a doctor too
Not that there's no other way
To get to know her

I could only internalize
How hard she must have studied
From residency to fellowship
In my head, I wish I can "ship"
I ship her and myself
Unrequitedly

At this phase
Patient will I become
Not the adjective
But the noun
Patient

But I have to choose
My illness
It can't be neurological
It must be internal

Should I put poison in my food?
Can I put water in my lungs?
Must I have bacterial infection?

Any injury
In my upper extremity

May be a turning point (or not).

I am in a box
As I reach out
Touch the walls
This strange barrier that separates me
From the other
Anything external
Different
Other
A hand from the box adjacent to mine appears
Splayed against the wall
I reach out mine
The dark and light contrast
Like the Chinese symbol Ying and yang
Other clearly
Other
Even a child could tell the difference
But,
Who does it take to look past the differences?

Lives inside
      A monster
Picking at
      everything new
Pointing out
       everything wrong
With your life
With them
With you

I can't write this with words softened.
You're up and down,
In a  Myriad of ways.
You see my heart, its doors opened.
You know me too well.
It's killing me, just a bit.
I wonder if you're what they cautioned.
Difficult to handle,
But you give me such a buzz.
You have too many pieces, horizons broadened,
But still, I still come along with you.
In a myriad of ways.