The world will break one day
but I will be gone when that happens
already perished from the exhaustion of holding goodness together
on my shoulders and wrapped around my waist
between each finger and scrawled all over my face
I would have held it all up for the whole world to see
standing there for millennium
through vast lands and seas
standing on mountains of turmoil
and looking through the cracks of bravery
I would cry weep and choke on my tears
but I would still reach for the stars
appreciate the fiery red sun
pick up every diamond resembling a rock and every rock resembling a diamond
and place them in my pockets for the weight of the world to bear
I know from an outer surface
the fight will be extinguished in the end
but the inner part of my soul
wouldn't ever mind having to pretend
that maybe one day goodness will spread out over the landscape
pouring in every object being and soul
and it would be alright that for me by then
time and vulnerability would have taken it's toil.

Sorry if my words aren't pretty enough
for you to read,

but I'd like to be myself for once.

There was never any need
to please others,

for no matter how much
you seem to owe them,

in the end, your life
should belong to you.

There never was any reason
to judge or scorn,

for everyone is scarred
insecure and flawed,

the only perfections that exist
are the imperfect ones.

Time is caught up in moments,
the anxiety and restlessness
found in dancing shadows,

questioning and mindless tests
adolescents live by,

content and loving
mothers, fathers, lovers,

weary and patient,
time carriers.

Time's in a flurry when it
happens to glance at you,
hurrying here and there
talking as if your words were on fire,
walking as if you were being
chased by your shadow,
living like every second was too slow,

I like to treasure
the pieces of you left behind in the air,
traces of emotions flashing across your face
words escaping your mouth so rapidly,
the motions of your arms hovering in the air.

You always praised me
so much regard and acknowledgement,
laughing and confident at my hesitation
exposing me to the world,
defending my soul from
insults rolling off sharp tongues
of shadows passing by.

Sometimes I wonder
have you forgotten who I am,
buried in the wishes and desires of a dream person
the sole image and reflex of a perfect reality,
the false light shining into the heavy bright day,
when all I had ever been in the beginning
was a shadow among the stars.

I want to reach for your hand,
holding still the golden strands of time
slowly pouring a cool light darkness over you,
will you finally notice the deep pools in my eyes,
the sorrow welling in my heart
the loneliness penetrating the lining of my ribs
the settled love you would never notice,

Little by little,
you move flashing by,
faster and faster as a race against time,
never glancing back at what you leave behind,
your fingers slipping and pulling away from my hand,
the warmth running and the coldness creeping in,
the ties unbinding and the distance growing in between,

until all is a left,
is a timeless statue of my body.

For you took every second of me with you.

As the time caught up,
she lifted her head to the ticking
of the clock hands,

They had never been still,
from the day of fresh born life
through days of silky pink smiles,
flowing blue tears, flashing white pain,
pooling red love,

No second had ever paused
as she was once filled with hopeless anxiety,
innocent uncertainty, scars of remorse,
shivery longing,

There were moments when she saw the wonders,
instances where she was blind with contempt,
most of the time, she went with the flow
so at the end, she felt saddened and hollow
because it had never been about true happiness,

She now wishes for a second chance
but her time is up,
she lifts her head to the ticking
of the clock hands,
and tries not to think too much.

In the chilly cold air
of the starless dark night,
I rub my hands for warmth
and think,
oh how alone I am in this sad world.
Walking forward,
frosty grass rustling underneath my feet
I search for a source of warmth,
a beacon of light and sound,
a comfort of love and home,
but all that is left for me is
the Trail of Tears leading to
the ends of the earth,
where everyone I knew had
walked off a long time ago.

Creamy lukewarm milky coffee

coconut herbal black tea

and toasted flaky sesame croissants

keep me company on my lop sided desk

alongside a tattered worn laptop

placed across a stack of crinkly unread books,

whose pages rustle, wreath, and rip

upon hearing the youthful chimes

from my sleek, shiny smart phone

with its masterpiece of shattered glass

sheathed in a case of faded blue flowers,

bewitching my weary entranced eyes

until they reach the very last moment

of their sorry sights,

and my long lost friends emerge

to take my remains,

and scatter them across evergreen tree tops

and delicately dying flower petals

on misty winding mountain peaks

For me, the world is very demanding.
Anything that must be faced
with daily care or a special grace
becomes so very tiring and repetitive.
The warm sunlight
and a soft breeze in the clear blue sky
are on the other side of
my closed, covered windows.
I am rooted to one spot
where it is comfortable in the darkness,
where my problems fade into the
grayness,
where my life is not mine to handle,
and I'm so willing to live another's.
It's hard for me to come out,
it's hard for me to pull myself away
back into this world,
where nothing seems to flow in
a harmony that otherwise seems to
exist in the worlds I discover,
streaming from the screen I longingly
gaze at for hours.
There's something missing,
I feel discontented with what is given
rather than cherishing
the life I have the privilege to live.
It's just in my dreams,
I am living different lives, with different moments
and what's difficult to handle while I'm awake,
is so very easy to brush to the side
with a strength I acquire
from dreaming of a world where
my reality
isn't the reality.

Through the rough, cracked, dry hands
of the hardworking farmer
plunging his *** into the rich soil
to provide me with
the utmost sweetest of fruits
and delicacies,

I sense shame, guilt,
and helplessness upon my being
as I spitefully reach
to consume the world of
fantasies and illusions instead.

When your eyes are forced to be wide open
but your heart is clamped and shut tight.

Steaming thick creamy broth
long slim pasta noodles
freshly sliced spring onion
chopped cilantro and clives
bright juicy lime and
grounded fiery peppers

For being priviledged enough to eat
such wonders of blended cultures
and not mud cakes
or greasy fastfood
we are thankful.

It seems they've won, my friends...
and I've lost.

For some people,
life is a
game called
    Let's see
         how much
               you can
                    lie to yourself

my heart aches.
i wish i could be happy and beautiful, too.

Once upon a time
in a distant culture,
people's feet were bound.

Although society
has since accepted big feet,

now, it is our minds
that are bound instead.

And all I can recall
is falling.
It's just an endless question
of whether it is away from
or into
life in this world.

Glancing over your shoulder
you watch me go about,
with an upside down frown
and white washed hands
a tear stained inner soul,
although no one may ever know
how I came to be a person
full of desperation and pain,
because I was trying my best
to be a good person,
but what defines a good person,
is it the redness of love,
a greenness of life,
a purple of royalty,
a blackness of the night,
and I was trying to be
happy and free, but upon
helping others, the universal
truth was lost among me,
for I can't seem to remember
what to do anymore,
or how to be a good person,
for my heart is content in being
an upside down frown but
my soul will never soar,
it seems in this lifetime,
in this existence,
I may not be a good person.

I long to live in a vintage
world
where the warm, spring wind blows
softly all day long
and the sound of wind chimes are
the only things representing
a calm humanity's
existence
I would like to take pictures of you
behind the lenses of that old-fashioned
vintage camera
you wearing a faded David Bowie shirt
with ripped blue jeans, dusty shoes
displaying your white, crooked
teeth of a smile
can we ride around town together
bikes pulled out from neglected
sheds full of rusty, old tools
leaves twirling through the squeaky wheels
rolling down cracked pavements
with crushed, brown green grass and
white daisies trying their best to
remain upright
can we sit on the raggedy bent steps
of an old abandoned
two story house
and eat melting ice cream with
cold fingers and hot heads from the
sun's yellow white glare
can I hold your hand
intertwining our rough flat palms and
tracing your dusty, worn fingers that
wipe away burning tears
and caress my face as though it were
the most precious thing
in the world  
can we pretend that
life is just an old- fashioned movie
time put on for us
and the setting is my mind expressed as a
hazy yet vivid vintage world.

The wine glass gracefully twirls round
and round, and cherry maroon polished fingertips
slightly tremble with coldness, reaching up
to wipe away glassy tears from frosty lashes
cool winds drift in from tall windows left ajar,
gently cradling a long mane of black, shimmering hair

in the white full moon's silver light and
the star's distant twinkles, there is a penetrating,
mournful howl of a lone wolf in the distance
and drops of cooled, flowing tears sinking to
the bottom of the crystal gray lake,
a silent plea for the being in the empty night of darkness
to arrive,

I float on top of my plush, pale violet colored armchair
a lovely book, Wuthering Heights, placed face down
on my lap, a cigar tray with rich, lush scents and
opal colors shining in the lamplight,
but no cigars to be found
the silver clock humbly reaches midnight over
an eternity of jaded, silent emptiness coated over the
stillness of cold air in the spacious room

I sit here, gazing out towards the
winding valleys, feeling a dazed, small tingling sensation
of stifling envy towards the soft, yellow twinkling lights
in the distance,

the old wooden houses huddled together in times of life,
perhaps in that small, soft, cozy village of warmth,
someone is leaning on their windowsill, gazing
at the lone silver-black mansion sleeping atop
a stooping mountain in the distance, pondering
about the very lonely, tear struck, silent person....

pondering about me....

oh, it seems no matter what I do,
I am misunderstood and judged by my flaws,
condemned as if I don't possess a heart,
I am left feeling dazed with a cold emptiness
settled around my chest, maroon painted fingernails
and wine are more beautiful than blood,

*I crave not just a set of arms to last,
but a moment of understanding,
an enlightened place of belonging,
and a warm place to call home.

We are the lost ones
boundlessly floating and jumping
off of people's cliffs of misinterpretations
reaching out to hands and never letting go

We are on a diet of scornful looks
raised eyebrows and
furrowed disappointments

We are the ones who
aren't afraid of being truly
happy and accepting towards
the hidden or non-existent wonders
of the world and we see it as
a priority to race against time
and let the good memories reign on

We are massive curly round
full teethed laughter and radiance
brightness and darkness combined
a thirsty seething fire in our eyes
rapid snarky tongues
and beating thumping full hearts

Let them shake their heads
sigh with sadness and let go
rant and heave and hurl
gaze with confused pitiful looks

For we are too good
too unique and beautiful
in-ordinary and beastly
for them to ever completely
understand.

what if you asked me, how I was doing
and I answered
something along the lines of,
well, I've actually been very tired
for awhile now
but of course, we all are every once in a while,
so it's all good.

would you nod and leave it at that
or would you say,
well, now that I think about it,
I've been kind of feeling pretty tired too,
so why don't we talk about it.

Meet me when the first snow falls
when the blue and green lights shine in the sky,
spin me around and around on the ice
so that when I look up I see the galaxy above my head,
catch a snowflake drifting down from the sky
and make it feel warmth for the very first time,
sit with me in the softness of the snow
and tell the wind to wash away our sorrows tonight,
glide with me in the night towards the sky
towards the shimmering falling stars that die
just so that we can make our wishes,
and we can see our dreams flash before our eyes,
I will hold you tighter and breathlessly whisper,
for every white year, I hope that you...
meet me when the first snow falls.

His feet flew on the track
and he was a blur,
like the emotions always rushing
through his head, wave after wave
of crashing tunes, colorful and whole one instant,
then broken black and white
piano keys the next.

His heartbeat sounded for 16 years,
a deep, penetrating thump in his chest,
sometimes lively and high to the
rhythm of life's beat,
other times suddenly straining
in invisible, dark melancholy of
time's bitterness,
till one day, he decided
no more beat to play along to.

His being engulfed by a
liveliness so pure, his character
so strong, perhaps the cracks
in his drifting soul were
not visible to any being's eye,
perhaps in the contagious laughter
that had always been taken for granted,
there were perfectly hidden, but exposed
rains of nothingness
and sorrowful, wailing cries.

Witty remarks, blissful ignorant jokes,
an easy grin to light up an underground city's sky,
there was definitely warmth
in his hands, color in his cheeks,
blood flowing, eyes shining,
but then like a dark, looming shield,
sorrow overwhelmed it all,
because everything that he had,
suddenly
he could no longer see.

We saw his face, his smile,
every step he took towards us,
a growing, boy of life reaching out,
but how did we miss,
every single silent tear.

Heard him talk like he was born to,
heard his hearty, contagious laugh,
heard his footsteps heading
towards us,
but how did we miss,
the silent cries of help,
and all the steps backwards into
the dark, forbidding, night.

Felt him live, felt him
thrive, ran with him in the wind,
everything coursing through his veins,
but how did we miss,
the sudden urges of sadness,
the sudden urges of loneliness,
the sudden urges of agony
leading to a silent urge of emptiness.

We think about his smile
and look for it,
we hear his laugh, and listen
eagerly,
we feel his footsteps resounding
in the ground, sprinting towards
the finish line; we begin to cheer him on

but when we look up,

he's gone

the seat in front of me is now empty

today
tomorrow
the day after
in all the years to come

and the tears flow
and hearts beat with agony
and silent night cries

us who will always be
remembering him
who can't be forgotten,
remembering him
who can't be undone.

I was an open person
but I am afraid now
because of all the misconceptions in the world
so I ask, was it a good idea to show my face
to let everyone know what I look like
or who I seem to be
because they can only make assumptions
so that they may feel like they understand
even when they may be wrong...
so who do you think I am?

I remain here, seated
but really I am somewhere
far away.
There is wind caressing
my hair, teasing my
sun-kissed, blushing face
while soft mounds
of earthen, rich soil
tread beneath the
soles of my
soft feet.
Vivid, rising green
valleys lying in
the west, and forests
of thick, chestnut
oak trees in the east,
while in front of me,  
cascades fields of
sunflowers, white lilies,
blossoming, silky
lavenders, gardenias,
and soft petaled roses.
In the horizon,
a magnificent sunset
graces a clear blue
sky, with shades
of draping tendrils
of lush reds, oranges,
purples, tainting
plump, white clouds
and coloring
the tops of
graceful, willow trees.

right now,
I feel like all the stars in the sky
being pulled down by
people's wishes

with you i'm alive
like all the missing pieces
of my soul
they finally collide,
with you i fall
it's like i'm leaving all my past
in silhouettes upon the wall,
with you i'm a beautiful mess
it's like we're standing hand in hand
with all our fears upon the edge,
so stop time right here
in the moonlight,
cause i don't ever wanna
close my eyes

My heart is about to burst
love is raining down from the pink sky
cupid can retire for awhile
for I am so overwhelmed that
even the Gods sigh and shake their heads
I want you to hold me
dance with me in the rain
kiss me on the sidewalk
if not too much, take away my pain
for I see everything in heightened senses
when I think of you
your laughter echoes throughout
the universe
your eyes gleam like
sapphire stars in the diamond night sky
your smile
fills me utterly with joy
like the sweet blossoming swell
the sun and moon feel
when they are finally
reunited as one.

There are instances in life where you feel so down, you are so low below the ground that
you can’t bring yourself back up.
People have a problem with coming back down, your problem is being high enough to think,
to live.
You can’t really say, that everything will improve over time.
You feel exhausted and empty, dreary and hollow, like an old old well drum that had been played for centuries, with no real passion or spirit.
You long for someone to notice you,
but that’s just a part of human nature; it’s not what you really want.
You want to smile,
and feel the sun's rays lighting up your face.
You want to dance,
in the blue rain and the silver moonlight.
You want to say you're different,
that for you, no one ever has to change.
You want to say that once you felt so down, you were so low below the
ground that you thought you couldn't
bring yourself back up.

But you did.

Dear you
would you like to know
why you're hurting all
the time why your
bones are aching in pain
the muscles tight and
coiled bound pulled back
the nerves played like
a roughened guitar
the eyes roasted swimming
in darkness of rotten sockets
teeth being pounded upon
like heavy metal smashes down
windpipe trachea crushed in throat
skull trampled on heart ripped out
and soul set ablaze with dread
and pain would you like
to know why you suffer so
its because

you

never

got

it.

And in the cool, drifting abyss of all lost things,
I find you.
You who are affected by the world's discontent,
who watched through penetrating, yet clear eyes--
everything fall apart, underneath the disguise of
impeccable clothes
and red (or black) lipstick--
you who watched the light dance in people's eyes
and tried to determine whether
they were illusions or not,
you who remembered
how it felt to be free for the first time,
standing tall in the clear, cold water and basking in your pain, but daring someone to drown you--
while you learned to breathe.
You who felt love
radiating throughout your body and mind,
how when you looked at her, you saw stars with muffled shines
and the ghosts of a different universe--
you reached out and touched her, gave her your words
drifting across the dark, rigid screen
bursting it like a single drop, forming rapid ripples--
and someday, the truth will come out
how when we're all alone, and the world is drawing to a close
underneath all the pretenses
and the hidden solitary pain,
you will draw out that cigarette full of stars, and let the ashes of a lost world's dreams be carried through the wind,
riding on the smoke of despair--
riding on a soul,
never shattered.

I want you to see
that in this world of white and black,
there is color to be found.

Even if you have to look through
the cracks and crevices in sidewalks and buildings
look behind closed signs, through empty storefronts

gaze into the starless
falling eyes of the boy next door
trying to remember what the night sky looked like

you will find them
because all lost things,
are meant to be found
one day in the end.

wow! just wow~
can you remember the flowers
the cherry blossoms that were your favorite because
you thought they smelled like me

the blue blue sky
the endless ocean of tears

and the stars
that were white
but dripping with every color

and you,
you are a rainbow,
not the one everyone expects

but a rainbow
of pain, solitude, forgiveness,
love (as hard as it is to believe),
and life.