Ek koh e gham liye betha hoon
Log kahte hain piye betha hoon
Koo e Jana me hui he jab se shikast
Tab se hothon ko siye betha hoon

I watch lazily from my hammock
as the fiery red orange sun
sinks into the horizon
and night falls down upon my head
as the warm breeze caresses my skin
the hibiscus are swaying
dancing to the tune of the earth
the smell of Tom Yum Goong
(spicy shrimp soup)
fills my nose
my belly rumbles uncontrollably
distant music and little voices
sipping on Nam Dang-Mu Pan
(melon ice drink)



S̄ìng thī̀ dī thī̀s̄ud thī̀ c̄hạn khey thả k̆ khụ̄x kār ŷāy pị yạng pratheṣ̄ thī̀ yxd yeī̀ym nī̂ h̄nụ̀ng thī̀ p̄hm thor h̄ā thī̀ b̂ān

translation: The best thing I ever did was move to this wonderful country, the one I call home

Girl, are you belong to
De Beers Premier Mine
Come to me, I preserve you
and make you mine
My love is like
Champagne diamond
I've somany colors to put
all your worries behind
Let me be a Wittelsbach
in your crown
So that I can smooch your forhead
Let me be a White diamond
in your ring
So that I can kiss your fingers
I'm sure, being with is like staying
in a Cubic zirconia
My love is more denser;
I will never let you hurt
Girl, you are a Koh-I-Noor;
everyone fights for your beauty
and value..
But I'm Robin hood;
I always fight for your good!

----de3pak

The lime,
Shored up, spine cracked
And open paged
Is ridden with vine,
Life
Rife with tree and green
A hidden lung
To which you inspired,
This rich tapestry of coral
From old looms of woven Word.

As time washes them to the sea
And their beached bones populate the beaches
I rest my feet on the shores of shores
The neap of these spires
The catch of your breath

And am left without any.

One of the minnows
Cast in the light
As blades of chaff in a summer plain
Flares, as a star in the dappled light
To become the murk of dancing sea.


As babel casts distance between our words
Flowers and plants we drink and burn
Our church is upon the water,
Where God writes his testament in the rock
And shows us Our image
Reflected on the sea

Where I come to understand
Command
The path of all beneath
The current made
With every stroke
Guided and goaded
With rice and stick
With love and fear
I knew Him in me.

The deep holds Your waning disk
Twilight dyes the waters
I saw the wonder placed in us
Traced upon the fleeing skies

I have no words for your kindness
I found etched between the ancient grains
Only that I wish I could see them better
Written for more familiar shores.

As darkness blots the sky with ink
And the ocean fades into crashing waves
I am left with but the faintest warmth of day
Whispered 'long the breeze.

'Twas a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there.
Which well-nigh filled Joe's bar-room on the corner of the square;
And as songs and witty stories came through the open door,
A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor.

"Where did it come from?" someone said, "The wind has blown it in."
"What does it want?" another cried. "Some whisky, *** or gin?"
"Here, Toby, sic him, if your stomach's equal to the work -
I wouldn't touch him with a fork, he's as filthy as a Turk."

This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace;
In fact, he smiled as though he thought he'd struck the proper place.
"Come, boys, I know there's burly hearts among so good a crowd
To be in such good company would make a deacon proud."

"Give me a drink -- that's what I want -- I'm out of funds, you know;
When I had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow.
What? You laugh as though you thought this pocket never held a sou!
I once was fixed as well, my boys, as anyone of you."

"There, thanks; that's braced me nicely! God bless you one and all!
Next time I pass this good saloon, I'll make another call.
Give you a song? No, I can't do that, my singing days are past;
My voice is cracked, my throat's worn out, and my lungs are going fast."

"Say! Give me another whisky, and I'll tell you what I'll do
I'll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too.
That I was ever a decent man not one of you would think;
But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink."

"Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame --
Such little drinks to a *** like me are miserably tame;
Five fingers -- there, that's the scheme - and corking whisky, too.
Well, here's luck, boys! and, landlord, my best regards to you!"

"You've treated me pretty kindly, and I'd like to tell you how
I came to be the ***** sot you see before you now.
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame and health,
And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth."

"I was a painter -- not one that daubed on bricks and wood
But an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty good.
I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise,
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes."

"I made a picture, perhaps you've seen, 'tis called the 'Chase of Fame.'
It brought me fifteen hundred pounds and added to my name.
And then I met a woman -- now comes the funny part --
With eyes that petrified my brain, and sunk into my heart."

"Why don't you laugh? 'Tis funny that the vagabond you see
Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me;
But 'twas so, and for a month or two her smiles were freely given,
And when her loving lips touched mine it carried me to heaven."

"Did you ever see a woman for whom your soul you'd give,
With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live;
With eyes that would beat the Koh-i-noor, and a wealth of chestnut hair?
If so, 'twas she, for there never was another half so fair."

"I was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May,
Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way,
And Madeleine admired it, and, much to my surprise,
Said that she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes."

"It didn't take long to know him, and before the month had flown
My friend had stolen my darling, and I was left alone;
And, ere a year of misery had passed above my head,
The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished, and was dead."

"That's why I took to drink, boys. Why, I never saw you smile!
I thought you'd be amused, and laughing all the while.
Why, what's the matter, friend? There's a teardrop in your eye,
Come, laugh, like me; 'tis only babies and women that should cry."

"Say, boys, if you give me just another whisky, I'll be glad,
And I'll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad.
Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score --
You shall see the lovely Madeleine upon the bar-room floor."

Another drink, and with chalk in hand the vagabond began
To sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man.
Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head,
With a fearful shriek, he leaped and fell across the picture -- dead.

I'd help you
You're not my friend

I'm known as no face
I have no name

I was almost called the wind
You never see me
Only hear or feel me

I'd love to get to know you
my brain makes up excuses
on why not to

You look so pretty
but I never have the guts
to compliment you

Now I'll be known for being shy
Ask me whatever you want
and I'll reply

I once had a face
They took it away

I'm starting to forget
Who I really am

Mon Papy.
Mon Papy n'a jamais eu de poème,
Afin de lui faire comprendre à quel point je l'aime.
J'ai donc le devoir de rectifier cette erreur,
Qui, depuis quelques temps, ronge mon coeur.
Depuis que je suis petite, tu m'as fait découvrir la belle vie,
Apprendre à faire du vélo sur deux roues en fait partie.
Tu m'as montré comment jouer aux boules,
Et comment orienter mon cerf-volant pour qu'il s'envole plus haut.
Tu m'as fais goûter le meilleur miel du monde,
Celui que tu allais chercher dans ta combinaison de super-héro.
Moi je pensais que tu étais James Bond,
Tu me disais, "ca roule, ma poule",
Comme si tu n'avais peur de rien,
Même pas des oies qui nous courraient après dans le jardin.
Avec toi je joue au scrabble et aux petits chevaux,
Tu gagnes toujours haut la main, et on ne peut s'empêcher de crier "Bravo!"
Je me souviens de nos soirées Fort Boyard et Koh-Lanta,
Rien de mieux qu'un bon feu, une famille réunie, et du chocolat.
T'avoir dans ma vie est un cadeau de chaque seconde,
Parfois j'aimerai le crier sur le toit du monde,
Pour qu'ils sachent tous la chance que j'ai,
D'avoir un papy comme toi, que je suis si fière d'aimer.
Même **** de toi je te sens près de moi,
Tu réchauffes mon cœur avec des sourires.
Tu sais bien qu'avec toi je ne peux que rire.
Tu m'aides à donner le meilleur de moi-même,
Tu sais bien que ta fierté fait la mienne.
Dans ma tête tes chansons résonnent avec clarté,
De la souris verte à la claire fontaine,
Ta voix berce mes souvenirs chaque jour,
Et mon angoisse disparaît dès que j'en entends les contours.
Mon sourire apparaît dès que je pense à toi,
Et mon cœur se remplit automatiquement de joie.

The Jashan at the foot steps of Demavand Koh

Thank You O kind Ahura, for this special moment that You send;

Ecstacy sheer it was, to this very special Jashan attend.

Felt Your presence, as if You were just round the bend.

Thank you sincerely for this wonderful opportunity that You, us sent.

Armin Dutia Motashaw

I was born robbed of my maternal language,
That crucial bundle of Heart’s pillars
and ribs.

The one that makes you forget
What even words or images are
worth for,
The one that shaped what sense I hold,
And the one who built me
from mere ashes
When I couldn’t even have my eyes
for God, before the first of times.

I’ve searched through more than a dozen
of them so far,
those which humans throw and throw,
force, upon me,
and each time one comes
when the victory seems at last
only for me to find
I have nothing else in my hand
than the smell of footsteps long gone
in the sand and dirt.
Though a half of my plucked out
ribs remain,
which is Poetry that ever wants me,
tongue carries,
that which cannot be
undermined nor explained,
I limp, maimed, without my own tongue
to claim.

And from that search my love though
for the language made its birth.
Possibly the yearning turned into arousal
of wonder catching, affection lapping.

I went back to the Language,
a veritable person I make of it,
I gave it the right of a name,
characteristics
And I am all those questions
directed towards it.

By the script of E.J. Koh’s letters of mother,

How to express in Korean, English,
or any other language
how we miss one dearly
or how the distance shapes itself?

How does language create us
and makes us become
what we are truly deep inside?

How does it decompose us
at our lowest and the highest,
of the state and one’s expressing?

Especially when the Word, at times,
though so futile unreliable,
is the only thing we have left,
like Dreams?

And if you ask me now,
with so much tongue inheritance
already making my stance in “To Be”,
which mortal speech the most beautiful is?
You can’t. for how can I choose?
French, the violet whisper?
Spanish, flaming blades in Llorona’s tears?
English, a parting ship in eloquent observance?
Italian, a cigarette night in a local conversation in lush green?
I cannot. For, what choice?
You could also ask me which of the stars
I love the most: I can’t say.
Each is so similar to other yet not,
though the brightest might not
be the dearest,
the middle one might not be the further one and the intimate arousal for all
that abstract and ungraspable
makes your feelings so confused
and beautifully mad
as if you had polyamory
with many persons at once,
couldn’t get rid of any of them,
choose only one,
yet each one of them has something
the other does not.

Every exchange of a language in mind
is that of our person,
even more of Poetry
I derive myself from in feelings & images,
an exchange of puzzles, schemes,
as if going through a ballroom
full of diversely dancing people
and once you have to step through them dancing waltz to pass
and then dancing tango.

The fall of the Babel was the moment
when that maternality of Speech
shattered into alien yet same
breaths, sacrifices, work of hands
and transit,
and ended up so rich
yet so lacking in its “magna carta”

So, if it all ends always as the same,
If it always leaves heart ripped,
If I can have it all yet none I want,
If it’s the same mortal thing
in codes shrouded...

If in this realm, the story ends
and starts alas,
tell me:

What choice of speak
do you even think
I still have?

Why worry at all about
Mother Nature or Queen Mother
First to feed and walk you,
Foremost’ld be your own mother.

Shrouded behind many layers of mystery,
You may end up in knowing HER not,
With many guards to frown upon entry,
You may land up in meeting her not.

Ready to **** snake closing in,
Brave enough to shoo tigers away,
When I came to this bad world,
She continued to value that day.

First to teach you alphabets,
First to tell what religion’s all about,
Every guest’s treated as god,
That’s how she earned her clout.

Before I’ld mire myself in break-up,
She chose to bring home my wife,
Trained her to be my best-loyal ally,
Who stands by me during strife.

When I got a kid of my own,
She volunteered to take her to school,
Washing her or dressing her up,
Everywhere she enforced her old rule.

Why worry at all about
Mother Nature or Queen Mother
First to feed and walk you,
Foremost’ld be your own mother.

Shrouded behind many layers of mystery,
You may end up in knowing HER not,
With many guards to frown upon entry,
You may land up in meeting her not.

Ready to **** snake closing in,
Brave enough to shoo tigers away,
When I came to this bad world,
She continued to value that day.

First to teach you alphabets,
First to tell what religion’s all about,
Every guest’s treated as god,
That’s how she earned her clout.

Before I’ld mire myself in break-up,
She chose to bring home my wife,
Trained her to be my best-loyal ally,
Who stands by me during strife.

When I got a kid of my own,
She volunteered to take her to school,
Washing her or dressing her up,
Everywhere she enforced her old rule.

Ocean edge, how your moods do change.

Yesterday your tiny blue wavelets winked back at the early morning sun
And as they ran playfully up the beach I felt refreshed by your soft body enfolding mine.

Today though your long wrinkles of greeny blue make a sulky sound.
A humph followed by a drawn out hissy sigh as you slowly travel up the beach flecked with spittle foam.

I lie here enervated by the overcast hot humid day and feel mildly irritated by this mood I hear.
But I really do not care a jot if you are going to be like that.
So there.

Koh Phayam. Thailand.  Dec. 2011

I took you snorkelling as I usually do.

I looked at you to reassure myself.

You winked back in your familiar way.

Later I looked again and you were gone!

You my long-time companion had disappeared!

You left me to plunge to the ocean floor.

I have searched for you along the arcing shore.

But I know you are forever lost to me beneath the rhythmic shifting sands.

Still winking and counting time as you always have.

Farewell my trusty Casio.


Koh Phayam. Thailand.   Dec. 2011

Valentine's Shoot the hallucinations,
Students of My Lost Sister - Blonde sis
with large natural ****. It's not wrong if you
Do not buy My Inner Mother;
Lingerie for her birthday.
The strength of Mom's son,
******! ******! Lonely Step mom
with my sister, step, step sister step
my grandmother's son,
The son of ****** - Mom &
Sister ******* POV - Mom's Sister
***** Brother - Mom is transforming,
is a frustrated ****** spark
playing ****, Valentine officially -
Slutty Step-sister of the brother
playing in the attention of GILF,
I touch the steps of the drug,
******, And my sister came out
like your bow [ROLEPLAY]
The step goes to bed with Mom
after horror POV *****
the son licks and abuses his mother
in any way. Old step mom
playing old man against a new son -
Daughter Leilani Lei cuts his father
and burst the ****** cherry - and stops
as the big brother teaches his sister
the woman's ****** ******* close
her young ***** - Taboo **** valentine '
MOM & SON, I can heal
Your Lisp - First **** ***
For the young blonde girl;
***** sister masturbates
in the shower and in the FuTs
of the ***! I like Yoga Pants
and Discount How That's Me, Wenona,
****** naked with a companion,
Bridal companion to ***** Young
Step brother looking for cheap taboo
*** competing with his mother,
making the FULL RANGE family
Three Times - Frozen ****, **** Dolls;
controlled mommy ***** son after
brainwashing in ******* - Healthy
Son and mom are having *** -
His e-mama sister also plays Valentine's Day
brother for stepmom and sister;
she was ****** by her uncle,
Valentine officially - Mom gives a son
****** - Beautiful **** Ebony gets
hard ***** beaten for the load
in Deep ***** for work.
Melanie Hicks is your mother.
She gets ****** by her Sleepwalking Son
Fifi Fantasies is really real or bold
with sister Step Fifi and Shelby Paris,
Valentine - Best Mummy NEVER!
The Random ******* of HD Mandy
Flores' Sister and the love of family siblings
Christmas decorations.
The brother gets sister *******
Exhibition Valentino Brady Siss - ****!
My Stepsister in the bed of our parents
The lady of maize sisters deals
with the lover of the bone:
the birthplace of my mother's birthday
if Kenyans knit yelek'ware
t'echi brother k'en weni lili weke ****
imi and her mother born Mary laughs,
he is also the nephew. And the nephew,
They do not have instruments; they gather
my mother and sister touch
their mother and sister, their mother
is sexually abused Yegē limewi
colleague holding the ball, stupid step,
brother, my real click click
with your daughter in her? Greg is almost a sister?

It's hard to wait - her mother married
late, then the father and the girl Sasakawa
ch'emewochi version of your hand
and felt kewinido with her,
and her sister went to the minute
Brother Brother, her brother visited
- Mother moves marionettes full of puppets.
Moms and methods of anxiety
has ****** relations: the mother
and sister parent, sister, mother, soldier
iweli delee lechi e-iv, come from
"initewek'ewi yeveliveridini,
stefano-sevejo, kehahan, **** This way
However, ch'ene chibeti and all Melanie
Otizini To play poetry for poetry
Valentina's belief is the main desire to eat
Students my sister, with my wife
With huge fragments of natural fragments, if not you
Do not buy my baby in diapers
Unique Birthday / Birthday Dress
For Baby **** Lonely Step Step Mmm
My sister did the same with my grandmother's sister
Vigner son - Emi and Tigray
Mother Sister Pai-Mama is a sister
Wow, brother-mom changed
A broken prostitution and ****
Principle of Valencia - Level of detachment - Sister
GFX attracts attention from the GIF level
My mother gave me a girl with drugs, drugs and drugs
And my sister served me like Koh Dankerk
The hunters go to bed
After the POV symbol type
The child bothers his mother to everyone
One possible way. My oldest daughter loses him -
Leopold Leo cut off his father
Cologne's ****** control - stops
The older brother taught his sister the woman
Gasoline - I can save a boy
from the MEMOIR of *** Maiden
Your Lisp - the first **** ***,
My pretty brother
When the brothers wash their donkeys in the baths
And FTT ***! I like
Yoga couple's reduced coma.
My mother sings in my mother's womb
The partner's neck is in the summer
In fact, the young man was watching
For the neck it shows sexually
Mom's mother was born
Little puppets My mother started to take the baby under control
Milling - health of interest
Mom and Eng

'I think I have hemorrhoids'
I said
'oh my gawd key-koh, I have them too'
she replied
'we're hemorrhoids buddies now'
I finalized
as I also realized
we were two strangers in the metaverse
talking about *******
and from all the possible friends
this twelve year old kid
was the only one around
what a loser I must be, what a perv
even though I just wish she'd logged off
and be safe(r) in the real world
I guess I'm too old to care anymore
even if the topic is hemorrhoids
as long as the place it's coming from
is honesty and benevolence

"keeeey-koh"
said an excited high pitched voice
and then came the bouncy
floppy ears
and the flowy hair
dip-dyed.
from the chaos of the
optimized box
to the quiet YTS
you're too young...
you shouldn't be there
this is full of monsters
it's better to be lonely
than with them
I wish your parents were better
as I wish for mine
I wish you grew up in my time
Mostly, I wish you make it out
alive
it's okay, expected even
to get very hurt
but it only takes one moment
to end it all
forever
the finality contrasting highly
with the casual presentation of this
universe (metaverse)
a shock shaking to the core
a lesson learned heavily
that cliché of moderation
could end up saving your
life
I'm no angel and cannot look over
forever
I cannot even teach everything needed
for there is no time
and you wouldn't listen
just as I didn't
before my own
prime

putting the tracks i liked
out there, on my stories
hoping, wondering,
maybe they'd see me for how i dream
and not for how i've been coping

except a step further
a path up ahead
i realized, they didn't really care for all that i had
prized possessions of mine, these lyrics so simple
they don't deserve bits of me, if the surface excites them sole
if they don't like it whole, not worth the lengths i go

a girl's room is her own museum
or so they said
mine's a beautiful chaos
trust me, a letter to self

and so i stopped
a step further even
ahead i moved
watched, smiled, told them they had all i could
share without breaking, without giving them the key
that could threaten my volatility—my being
and i hoped they'd accept

except fools require everything whole
even if they can't accept it, they need it only
for the pleasure it brings, the joy of knowing
not to like, to love—but to show—
the world always required proving

i have my own cocoon
won't term myself ready to bloom
or a butterfly for that case
but i hide, intending to forget the world
my room, the paradoxical mapping
the stars chart their own course during the nights
up on my ceiling as i turn the lamp and let it burn bright
it's simple, heady space
there's posters and pictures on one wall
the other holds a heart collage of all sorts
lomographic detailing, i've always found myself dreaming
one picture, and i tend to stare deep
whenever this head gets too loud, i sit and stare at all of the meanings

there's a magnitude that hides
read every picture, uncover—but it comes with a price
safe spaces, meant to be kept hidden
posters—the movies that stayed, the artists looking back at me
quotes, written in an unhinged manner
my favourite, i'm yet to choose
but it all kind of gives away what i can't hammer
across my skull and at myself every time i go out
i wish to carry it all, to show them what i'm all about

don't try to rewrite my scars
just don't add any new ones to the already existing
and you could wrap a bandage
i'll keep all the rough edges sealed
and edited for flow

there's carts—more like shelves weakened with a multitude of books
i counted them, turned out to be a lucky 151
now i wonder which i ought to read
to throw caution to the wind and forget all my seams

there's stands, holding tiny little things
a layer of all my bracelets, of all that i intend to wear
one with the skincare, and other little prizes i just keep
there's pens, a vast multitude—I could never have enough
in all colors, i think half of them already dried up
a couple things for journaling stay at the very back, at the very bottom
right above, it holds all the things i could use to paint—to bring my dreams to mortal realm
except the skills lack, i tend to procrastinate
so they stay, gathering dust—unless i air it out—once a day
every day

the last compartment holds a stack of pencils, a glass quill—intended for magic
couple washi tapes—perhaps i'll wrap them around my wrists
and a few paper cutters, having gathered rust from being washed—every time i stuttered

a red ribbon, and a golden one, tied around both my shelves—reminding of who brought them to
vines hang in one corner, right beside the balcony
i'm yet to minecraft the windows, perhaps i'll let them be
there's pages stuck to the walls, and a multitude of sketches
nothing all too special—but there's this one of an eye that speaks
couple stars, the phases of the moons—waning and waxing,
full one too!
a paper leaf string—maple leaf except i made little hearts
hangs over the bathroom door—completely out of place, held in a purple thread
the pages wall is of a comfy book—before the coffee gets cold
the curtains are a shade of violet and silver in the middle, indication of what couldn't have been told
silver almost looks like a grey, a bit shiny, a bit neutral
but then there's another book stand and it holds a few candles
hardcovers at the bottom, they hold too much weight
the paperbacks balance the top however
and wrapping its corners is a string light—a heavy mistake
it goes over my wardrobe
multitude of tiny bulbs if i were to turn it on
phases of the moon again, cut out
and beneath—like scribbles on a notebook—stuck album covers in tiny, varying shades

a sign that says smile—i can't say i do
but it stares back at me, every time i sit on my bed—so i try to
a blue ribbon bow—gifted, i remember just who
stuck to the handle bar, i grip it every time i pull the door through

my desk is a messy messy affair
to put a name to things would be like listing down what i couldn't bear
but here it goes—
my laptop, the one i barely use—it's new
yet to find my way through, i rely on the old one
tho it's been barely working
comfort i guess—is one step away from despair

fake purple tulips, standing in a lilac bottle that i'd painted
a pastel of the same shade except it's an hourglass
30 minutes, i'm yet to check if it lives up to its truth
three scrapbooks, incomplete, the kits emptied halfway through
a candle, a chalkboard, tiny—a slate of all sorts
with one side a black, the other a white
i tend to use it black over white

a clock, stuck on the wrong time, currently giving 11:11
some wisterias kept in a green plastic vase
and a succulent that's as real as it gets
i water it every now and then, the bubbles breathing a sign of life in the room
there's a bunny enchanted almost in a glass sphere—a lamp i don't turn on
a shell, one you'd find at the edge of a sea—except it's a gift too
sets of little trinkets i opened in kinder joy
pen stands holding my sketch pencils that i rarely use
my keyboard is a heavy affair
doesn't really fit in the room with its peachy aesthetic
it seeks repair

a bowl, huge ceramic one i'm yet to find the perfect place for
it carries several stones, i think i'd use them someday to break a skull or two
kidding—
the wall above—black and white, epiphanies printed on pictures
"human being"
"anxious person"
"creative block", "parental advisories"
"life of an artist", a quote between viktor & jayce  and big moon

a wall hanging on the wall, carries a humidifier i don't use
the three figurines of harry, hermione and ron from the wizarding world
the second ron hides just behind the three
a kuromi sits atop a small tin, holding bracelets that specifically need no calling

there's a couple fake plants, sure
books everywhere—on my bed
a set of few that i personally cherish
a dictionary of dreams, a history of time, grimms' tales and a comfort book to carry
it all together

my current read, a lighter for some reason, a diary i write poetry in
and a notebook to remind me why i do it all
add to it- a pen in white, one in blue
a highlighter just to mark the lines i already knew

oh the plushies!
a penguin, a bunny, a koala, a seal
an octo changing moods, a slytherin pillow, and a kuromi
a strawberry hiding a bunny again, and teddy—ages old from when i was a child
three pillows, and two comforters, i think i might get a weighted blanket
the grip feels familiar

there's a tapestry, right above my bed—i tend to forget its existence
since i'm always facing away
the sun and the moon, staring at each other
and a couple random trinkets that define me
don't ask of my drawers, or in between my books
my cupboard, or my wardrobe
i'll mention downturned black butterflies, a cloud with a storm symbol
a party mask, and a phone charm hanging off a circle
a small stool holding japanese authors' best works
a snowflake candle and a few marbles

it's all my own
sacred, hidden
drapery of the lights—different moods, different nights
why i wonder i hide, or spend so much of my time
but it's a galaxy here within
like in my eyes and in my being—whole

my brain resets, works to a rhythm—on nice days
i tend to keep the balcony open and wind flows
everything whispers and takes a breath of relief
the rain pours outside, as i sit and speak
little secrets to my walls
lying on my bed or sitting at my desk
wondering, circling—the reasons to live

the grandest—my baby bunny
wondering, sleeping, napping away or speaking
she stays with me
her own space, her own world a part of my own
we've got an ecosystem in here
the most prized possession

and every time i step
i carry this armor
laced with all the time i spent in this room
gathering strength, putting a piece anew
even if you're not it—
would you like to come see my room?

why'd i let the outsides visit and steal it solely
to murmur of how it all seems obnoxious
it's bits of me, pasted, put together
clumsy, messy, chaotic
i'm quite a few issues when you hear
so close your eyes, listen to my speaker
as i play the playlists i've kept hidden
tonight's the turn for prologue by cloud koh
and if you haven't even tried to read mine
how can i let you read the story directly just for show?