Things We Say


Funny things, words.

As empty as they are, you can fill them up with anything you want--the world is yours as long as you say it. That is, until I say it too, then we'd have a Word War between you and me. WWI ? WWII? No, this will be WWIII & the number of casualties will only be 1, either you or me. Don't underestimate the severity of this warfare, there's too many of them going on and too many clever strategies.

Your words can be smothered with hope.
But mine? They're bombs full of hurt.


Supernova Girl


We all knew that since the day we met her.

There's nothing we can do or stop her, she does what she pleases.
We love her, we hate her, there's not enough of her.
She can amuse the least amused and repulse the least repulsed, there's nothing out of her league.
She leaps when she's supposed to walk, she spins when she's supposed to turn.
She's a curve, not a line and not in italics but a bold with double underlines.
She's a storm in a shade of blue and an inferno waiting to combust.
She considers the unconsidered and ignores the common considerations.
She's a bow in the hair and a bullet in a gun.
She's the plug in the socket and the leak in the roof.
What can I say?

She can blow up at any moment.
She's a dying star.


Painted Wings


Someone once said that girls who've had their hearts broken become more beautiful.

Maybe it's the countless tears that make their eye shine like stars but with more emotion than what any star can show. Or perhaps the forced smile that we often can relate to. Maybe it's the way they start taking care of themselves more when there's no special man for them to worry about. Sometimes I think its in their walk the day after and the day after that until someone else comes around. The way they pick bits of themselves, and perhaps some of him in the midst of it, up to move forward. I believe its also their experience of the whole love, and most importantly if they're abandoned & scarred or grateful. And rain can fall down on us angry and sad.
"Can't always believe what people say," people say, but we do believe what we say. Most of the time, anyways.

But I am curious...
I wonder who said that.


Partial Metering


I know why time moves. Its because our world is constantly spinning spinning spinning and loves to dance around the the light of its life--the sun.
I don't know why time doesn't stop. Never. Not if its own kind is out of electricity or by our own attempts through fraud light. It'll keep going with or without a thought of whats happening to it, us or them. I don't understand why it doesn't stop. Does it have no emotion? Then when it is exposed in the physical form, why does it keep a face?

I know why I love. Its because without him, her and them I would find myself lost lost lost and ever so lonely but more than that miserable.
I don't know why love heals and hurts both just as evenly. It takes nearly nothing but a smile or glance and nearly everything of a word to do either. It'll be kind, it'll be cruel to anyone it pleases. I don't understand why one thing can be so contradictory. Does it not feel its very own definition? Then when its acting up, why can't we ever let go?

I know why you act the way you do. Its because your character, your likes and dislikes, those childhood games now grown into adult responsibility: they all have a part in this play of your life. They fluctuate, expand, grow and stretch, keep changing changing changing.
I don't know why you are the way you are, but...

The things I know and the things I don't...
I think I'll be ok with half of each.


Core of the Fruit


I once knew a girl.

One of the most beautiful in the school.
Many boys would comment on her beauty and figure in the halls, in the classes.
She didn't really have any close friends though, if any.
I liked to observe this girl, and I even talked to her.

But the more you got to know her, the less pretty she became.


That _____.


Do you know that _______ you get when you see the one you love

sleeping next to you? When they're the most __________ and you've
silently been given the honor to be by them through the night?
That _______ in the pits of your center when you're watching them walk away, even though you know you'll see them again soon. The way you know just what they're thinking or what they're going to say moments before yet its always so ________.
How sometimes words just aren't enough to express the ____ you want to say or show. & Even then you're not quite sure how to _______ the things you want them to _____.
Everything in the back of your mind moments between the second hand;

All at once you're back in that dark room, with the sun peeking shyly through the window and the alarm clock on the nightstand ticking cautiously.
&& then...
Suddenly you can imagine your whole future with them with no end.

I want to speak their language and hear their voices.
I want to listen to their soundless words and realize how similar we really can be.

I want to know what they hear and what they think of it.
I want to be able to call their name across the field and see them turn around.

I want to open my mouth and be acknowledged.
I want to express myself without the use of words and be understood.

What I want most is to share the silent half of the universe to this world and still be accepted as I am for who I am.
But most of all, I want them to be able to hear music and the indescribable beauty behind every note and pitch...
So I take them by the hand and I draw them into a stepless dance that only we can dance to.


A Dream Full of Tears


Well, we made Fey (though not my name or how I'm known, who I guess we can say is me) cry, and Sabaki (who virtually I suppose we can call you) cry. And we made an Angel and Thor cry too when they heard about it; it must've been powerful. && our companions! They are not like us-physically built being and conceivably their mental health. Their senses went awry and we've tried to explain ourselves and, most importantly our stories, but I'm not sure if it is they who don't understand or us who can't be certain that we understand the way they understand us. However, if language isn't how we'll communicate: They can listen to our hearts and once they heard, they too couldn't look us in the eye and had to cast their eyes down to cry...

You might be wondering what it is we all know, but if you take the time to truly listen to yourself perhaps you might hear something you've never heard of before or something you've been telling yourself for the longest time.

These tears that we all cry.
I leave it up to you to decide if they're of sorrow, relief, maybe euphoria, or something not quite in between.


Butterfly Season


To a Special Man

There was once a boy who was really good at lightening moods and making people laugh. He wasn't the most handsome nor the loudest. He just had this manner in the way he smiled that would intrigue us to the point where we just had to ask him,"_____, what are you smiling about?!" & the personality he held when he would express the things only he seemingly saw. All the kids in the class loved being in his presence and there wasn't anything he couldn't brighten-except maybe a lightbulb.

Late one evening I approached him at his favorite swings in the neighborhood park, after everything had really become everything and it wasn't what anyone wanted.
We sat quietly for a moment and the butterflies didn't fly.
"You always cheered me up, why won't you do it right now?!"

He looked at me with bright but forlorn eyes and the smile that no longer held the magic to make the saddest laugh.
"As much as I'd like to, sometimes... you just need to feel the pain."

& for the rest of the night he silently kept me company.




10 years gone, 10 years strong-

-even without a word spoken between us.
Like anyone else who doesn't have enough heart to hold all the pains, I'm tired of crying.
&& I can't help missing her.


At A Loss


These words that I speak... I could never say them with my mouth.

And even then I cannot discern if they are really mine or if I'm only reciting from someone I've heard once or twice before-somewhere I don't quite remember yet seems like a place I've lingered in. How do I know when I'm really being me or when I'm acting with or without the values I'm supposed to have yet who are they to say I'm supposed to really have them or not?

The words in The Bible... they're all truth, are they not? && if one thing is perceived to be wrong, then it would make sense that anything else spoken by it to be fallacious. So which would it be, all truth or should it ought to be considered a false that we that have been following it to be all just a bunch of fools? For something put at this high regard can't possibly be a Book with tidbits of fictitious letters with marks of sincerity. It is meant to be a Book of love!
My faith, my faith why have you forsaken me? Yet still have me bound to your will, tearing my soul to shreds and torturing my thoughts when I dare to think.

And YOU. Are YOU really reading this?
Because I can't be sure I'm the one writing it.




Have you ever been to the beach at night? The waves rolling towards the shore seem to glow against the darkness of the ocean and one would seem to see things moving between. I got the chance to a few days ago & while looking into the night sky I saw the clouds pretending to be nebulas and the stars pretending to be stars. I never had the feeling of being this small and alone in my life.

Having that special person by your side in the morning and early afternoon and to walk down the same beach at night by yourself is something near to heart break. The emptiness consuming your vulnerability in the vast space is terrifying and the yearn for the one who's not with you is overwhelming. Something like that isn't a feeling I would want to experience again.

How should I say this?
You're more important to me than what the both of us could recognize.


Falling Stars


They fall like dead men from the sky,

impaling the air with flames, ice and leftover breaths.
Their bodies collide with the ground in a blistering eruption we can't quite fathom no matter how many times we see it. Standing-as that's all they're capable of now that they have no more wings-up, their silhouette marks strange in the smoke and sizzling terrain. Sick and tired, they jumped from the roof top of the world. They refuse to put up with the dreams anymore.

Do the stars above mean anything to you? Do you realize that every night it gets darker when they're not there?

The children, like myself, who watch them from their bedrooms make sport of their decent and fabricate wishes on their glimmering figures.

All we're really doing is catching bullets with our teeth.


This World


I've been shown the world is actually the lungs of nature.
During the day it inhales-the sunlight, the colors exploited by imaginations and most importantly what we leave for it. During the night it exhales-the darkness, the existence it upholds strenuously and most importantly prepares the necessities for the ones that kill it the most.

I've been given the world I don't deserve.
I have the opportunities I don't take and food I like. I possess items that often get put up in a shelf in my closet never thought of again and a number of clothes to choose from with a variety of styles and hues. I live with a family I can eat dinner with and hold, I am shown and given love daily; something not everyone can say for themselves.

I've been taught the world is comprised of light and dark things.
When it rains there are clouds that smother what the sky could have been but there is the rain that reflects your eyes and the lightening that illuminates our souls. When the sun is bathing, she blazes everything and anything her locks of hair falls upon, but where there is the light there is a shadow as consequence just as monumental. When we are hurting we strive for darkness, to be hidden away and unnoticeable, but only a fraction of us are able to realize that what we really wanted was to be in a light so bright you can't even see the tears.

There are things I'm unable to appreciate enough, so please.
Appreciate them with me and breathe.

I don't understand how words can sting so much

when they can't even touch you.


Two Pains


There are two pains among two people. Each has their own and I wonder which do you hold?

Although you can't hurt the way I do, you won't hurt the way I do; no matter how hard you try...
There's nothing you can do about it, because we're not the same person. You'll end up hurting less or more, more physically or more emotionally.

But which is worse?
The feeling where you can't sympathize entirely, can't fully understand the torment they sustain-physically there but emotionally unable to reach the consciousness they're trapped in?
The feeling of a pain only you can feel, solitary and not utterly cut off from others but still at an unreachable distance enough to make a difference?

The helpful that's quite helpless & the one who's hurting a hurt only they can feel.
Which one are you and which one am I?


Paper Walls


These paper walls so thin, so fragile.

Ignited, incinerated. So gentle so beautiful & destructively elegant. Infernos pirouette all around us grasping at the pieces until all it seems to be are hallucinations.
The light reflects from our eyes as we watch them burn down; ash like snow.
I'm not afraid with his breath hushed next to my ear, his warmth greater than the blazes flickering at our feet. The beating of his heart-more soothing than any drug.

These paper walls so thin, so fragile.
I don't need them when all I need is you.

There's only so much I can do for you, the rest is determined by yourself only. Your pain is too much for me to comprehend though it brings me to tears as well.

I'm no good with talking or giving advice and I figure you already know that. I never was as clever as you. The way you speak and recount your stories...
You understand a lot and you know this, but in all honesty you don't.
Even you know this isn't fair. The way you used to be happy and now you've forgotten.
This is all I can give to you.

"Life is beautiful. Everyone's life is beautiful. You should try sticking around some, you'll see."
You told me that one night--& I finally understand.

Your life is beautiful. You should try sticking around some, you'll see.
I'm telling you that now. Have you ever seen it when the sun's rays hits it in just the right angles? Or if there is no sun, the way it glows under the moonlight and the stars? Even if there is no moon or stars, have you seen the luminescence around it? Around you...?

Happiness is closer than you can imagine.

It fell today.

That mirror my mother put on the wall.

I need to learn to let go of material possessions but seeing the little box that was underneath the mirror splintered across my bedroom floor shattered bits of my heart too.

It honestly had no monetary value, incomparable to the mirror. It was a gift from someone whom I can't even recall. The shards and pieces I gathered into a pile together were more than just fragments of wood it felt like I was trying to hold on. But to what?

In the end I turned the mirror over and examined for damage. I didn't find any parts of the frame or mirror broken but I did find something in my reflection that was.


No Title


That is all.


Je Me Perds


When I first arrived on this world it hurt, yet by some means I felt happy. And you... You wanted it all. You wanted the world.
Free my senses, I want to breathe raw air.

Its really true isn't it?

We're somehow living through today,
But do it with your own standards, not mine.




I'm going to keep this short for my sake.
What the hell are you doing?

I'm going to tell you this for our sake.
I love you...
But don't be afraid to break my heart if thats what we both need.


This Is...


The subtle murmurs of liquid, the endeavors of technology to count time. A bird, thats not a bird, in the Eastern part of my mind so it can be the first to proclaim when the sun, thats not a sun but actually the process of thought, ascends. The sigh of shreds of a hurricane as it blindly explores wherever it can reach.
This is the sound I hear.

The bionic energy in the form of lights that glow because that is all it is capable of. A wisp filled with innumerable slivers of glitter that represent the strain, peace and cyborg emotions surrounding me. The life & death of imperceptible beings, creatures and objects containing more worth than I could ever imagine.
This is the air I breathe.

The streams skillful in suffocation and charm; a vicious expertise indeed. A cup containing a drop of everything humanity is missing yet the stars embrace each other with. The vigor that we all require in order for the mechanics of our anatomy to function with or without complications.
This is the water I drink.

If you would just close your eyes,
This is the world I see.

I guess this is us, here for each other.
But with you over there and me watching you from afar with lips that can't seem to smile.

I don't know about you but I don't feel it anymore, that bond that we used to have. The one that kept you up to 3 AM just because I couldn't sleep. The same one that drove us to want to talk for hours and hours... when you had time for me.
I think you feel it too, the small empty space in your heart. At least, for a little while until you began to fill it with other things in your life. Mine's still here though and its pretty damn cold when the air blows through it.

I had the dropping feeling since the first time you didn't keep up with me anymore. The kind that makes your stomach knot and churn. I'd always get that tiny bit of hope that you would again, like you said. But I think it was only to protect myself from getting hurt all at once. I've been quiet for a while now and maybe I'm ready to admit we aren't close anymore.

I suppose its my fault for this outcome. For being too meek, too timid. For waiting. I remember when you apologized to me those times and I'd tell you that some things can't wait but I could. I was wrong, I shouldn't have waited or been scared to open up again. I should have fought for our friendship, for something so priceless. I read something on a blog a while ago and it made me go into tears. The ones you told me to call you whenever they came but I haven't. "When you really matter to someone, that person will always make time for you. No excuses, no lies and no broken promises."

I'm going to leave soon. Not only because of this throb but also because I'm tired of being pressured and guilted while I wait for you.
And when I do leave, I have a feeling you'll let me simple as that.
But really, I'd rather hear you say, "____, please don't go."


This Is What I Want


When I laugh, I want to hear yours too.
There's nothing like sharing a language anyone can understand.
When I hug, I want to be hugged back.
There's nothing like the safety of being in someone's arms.
When I cry, I want your shirt to soak up my tears.
There's nothing like the instantaneous comfort as you open up freely.
When I'm this alone, I want your companionship.
There's nothing like recognizing a friend in times of need.
When I sleep, I want to feel you next to me.
There's nothing like the presence of someone you love next to you when you're most vulnerable.

When all has been given out I presume its reasonable to feel empty.
There's nothing...

But something tells me thats not how things are supposed to be.

I want you to know there's a place between your nose and chin that a lot of people call a smile and I'm sure I'm not speaking for myself when I tell you that I'd like to see it over and over again. Sometimes you give in, but there were moments when you'd tell me it wasn't worth the pain and it would make me bite my lip 'til it bled.

"Why do you keep doing it?" you'd ask in silence. Most of the time I'd just shrug or pretend I didn't hear you. Its because I didn't know either. But I have an answer now and I want you to know before you swallow.

Its not something worth running away from.
Its not something for me to run away from.
Most of all, not you either.

Experiencing what you are now isn't because of unluckiness or a curse. It's just an inconvenience we have to overcome.

If you just hold my hand, everything will get better.




Is it weird that I read what you wrote the minute after you posted it up? The timing seems unreal.

I'm not sure if you'll see this, since you're not coming here anymore. I'm not even sure if what you mean is that we shouldn't talk anymore. Was I left behind this whole time after you left everything else for the better life? I was wanting to text you today and finally have a real conversation, but I'm scared now. Why am I scared?

However... this post isn't to speak on that. Its to thank you.

Thank you for the patience-you dealt with my sluggish pace even though your life is like an open high way.
Thank you for the effort-put into me, your words, your actions.
Thank you for the guidance-the advice, the things that helped myself shape and define my own even more.
But thank you the most for the time-something that can't be changed or returned after it is used. Nearly two years and here we are now.

I'm truly glad that you are happier; life is going up.
Even if it is without me.


Before I Forget


I had a dream last night.

Like how most dreams turn out after you wake up, I don't remember the details or much of the surroundings. But I can remember a gist of what was happening.
I was semi-omniscient on the events in this dream and I shifted between the two main individuals in turn. They were good friends, possibly even lovers the boy and the girl. They were participating in this days long race; to where I wasn't sure. The two of them had passed preliminaries together and had promised each other that they would get through it together and their hopes were high. However, somewhere along the competition, the man ended up leaving the girl to go on ahead.

I remember, his running shoes were yellow.

He got further and further ahead without even a look back. The girl continued onwards as well, and she kept trying... trying so hard to catch up so they could finish this together. Eventually, reaching the end of the race wasn't what she was straining and destroying her body for. It became the man who had left her behind. All she wanted was to be at his side again and she cursed herself for being so weak-so slow. She didn't give up and I commend her for it. But what of the promise that continued to abrade every step he took away from her?

He finished the race alone, quite very alone. Did he feel pride in himself for doing so well? Was he proud of his strength and his stamina? What of the girl, did he think of her struggling days behind him or did he keep his sight forwards? His shoes were all but worn away, torn and beyond repair---just like that promise to make it to the finish. Together or never.

I had this dream last night and it broke my heart.


I Won't Tell A Soul


There's a cliff nearby where I live that overlooks the lake. The entrance is chained off and an invisible path leads further in past the arms of trees. It was the first time I saw someone there other than myself but I wasn't surprised. It was as if the girl was waiting for me. I didn't recognize her, but there are many things I don't recognize.

She had been crying, the tears dried by the wind on her flushed cheeks. Her eyes, however, were empty and hollow, her lips cracked and pressed closed tightly. I was tempted to whisper in her ear:
"Don't hold your breath, you'll miss the air."

But I held back as she exhaled delicately and drew in a stream of life like she knew what was dancing on my tongue. Instead, we sat there with our sides pressed against one another as we faced the bitter weather from both sides and looked out on infinity blue.

This? Why this is the loneliness of two.

Exactly 1,883 miles away, a door closes. When I laid there after you left, thinking about it, its pretty strange to be able to hear something that far away... its also pretty strange how much it hurts as well.

The sound of the hinges creaking wrenches something undefinable inside and the finale when its finally shut echoes away into silence . No applause, no standing ovation. Then there's afterwards. When I sit up and the emptiness; the loneliness embraces me and I am hollowed. There's a reason why I'm indecisive. Its simply my method of avoiding self-inflicted disappointment that coexists with any decision I make. I don't want to keep you from anything, but your company is also really nice. Does that make me selfish? My fault, my bad.

When I hear that door close between my dear friend and I?
My heart drops and I can't seem to find it again.
Maybe because its one thousand, eight hundred and eighty-three miles from me.

Dear _______,

To start this off with something important: Volim te puno.
In case you forgot, I wanted to remind you again.

Here is the space of things I want to say but can't express in words, but sometimes there are things you don't need to say to get across.

Do you remember a while ago when I told you I didn't know what I wanted? I still don't, really. However I do know what I don't want, and thats us falling apart. 
Like I said before, somethings can't wait but I can. I'll still be here.

We don't seal things with glue, a lick or a kiss.
For us, this is
Forever & Always




我不會滿足,如果你告訴我 "因為這是命中註定的"


Waiting For A Miracle


I feel like if I stay around too much, there's bound to be a wreck soon.

I'm taking a break, and the next time you ask me why I'm crying or upset, I don't want to have to lie and tell you its allergies.

I'm getting away from this time bomb before it kills us both.

But I'm going to start from when I was two. That was when I had a set goal in mind every day when I woke up. When the only thing that could make me upset was being forced to eat vegetables at dinner.

Then I was five, when I thought my brother was the most miraculous being alive for being able to press this button on a children's book to make it talk when every time I tried, I failed.

Kindergarten was a short dream. I learned the most I ever would in a year there. How to tell the weather, communicating, sharing. I learned crafts, the importance of specific things, the joys of never being alone. But then again, that was a time when we were all clueless about reality.

In Grade 1 was when I first really became "shy". I finally had a vague realization that the words 'best friend' didn't apply to every person in my class. This was also when I began to be wary of my brother.

By the time Grade 2 ended, I had experienced my first big loss, not a missing barbie shoe, but a person. I also had my first incident of bullying and being an outcast.

Before Grade 3, I had purposely committed my first minor felony and realized I'm not a person who can stand the weight of guilt. After Grade 3, I found two new loves in the form of one person.

Grade 4 was a year of rest.

The summer before Grade 5 was when I had to leave my safety to a place of unknown. I participated in friendlessness that year.

Sometime in Grade 6 was when my brother deemed me "unworthy to have our family name" in front of both me and our parents, it was my introduction to low self esteem and the feeling of being valueless.

I experienced my first death in Grade 7. I spent months crying after he was gone.

Grade 8 is when I felt normal for the longest time in my life.

Somehow, Grade 9 became the year of most drama, but also the year I enjoyed and appreciated the most despite losing someone to time.

I was slowly losing my grip on the things most important in Grade 10, but I couldn't bring myself to hold on any tighter. I was accepted into a family this year that I am sometimes ashamed to admit felt closer than my own.

I tried to regain the things I lost the year right after in Grade 11, and I'm still not exactly sure how well I did, but it was the year I actually felt like someone who was capable of achieving notable things.

The two months before Grade 12 was when I was isolated from nearly everyone but surrounded by even more was when I felt true loneliness and had caught a fever that showed me what delirious was like. I wasn't sure what I was doing when the school year finally started, I had to give up a dream to reality. It was slowly slipping from me anyways, so it wasn't as painful as it would seem.

It's been 3 weeks since my graduation from high school and I'm the most lost and confused I have ever been. I'm going in circles and I'm tired of ending up in the same spot. I want to move but I don't know in what direction. I haven't decided what sort of person I am yet, maybe you know and could tell me.

This is my evaluation.

I'm a prisoner of war for nothing.

There's whole generations fighting out there. For success? For love? For life?
People have always said I'd never make it. I'm not meant for greatness, I'm not destined to become one of them. Guess you ought to get your armor before we clash.

Strange how when we're finally facing each other on that battlefield, neither of us can remember what we're fighting for.
I think I'll put down my sword and drop my shield.

In reality, we're just a couple of kids trying to stay alive.
In dreams, we are alive.


Life Cycle


There's this girl. I'd like to say who she is, but that would make this difficult for me to write. So there's this girl.

She's pretty typical, enjoys shopping, eating sweets and worries about needless things. She delights in cute and cuddly creatures, soft pillows and colors. On weekends she likes to snuggle under the blankets until noon when the day is most alive. She cares for her hair like a second pet next to her cat that keeps her company when she sleeps and painting her nails different colors makes her jubilant. Happy is her goal.

But she has this problem. She tends to set herself up for disappointment. Her daydreams drift too far and she loses her stability. She makes herself believe in things that won't come true but convinces herself until the very last day and very last moment that it would happen. And when it doesn't, she's crushed. She'll sulk, and she'll mope. She'll cry, and when she cries-she cries. Then, as if it had never happened she'll do it all over again with a smile.


That is the awful life of a girl, naive and dumb.
A girl I suppose I could now call me.


Am I Someone To You?


Its kinda funny how we take certain things to heart.

Have you ever been a nobody before? Just another pair of lungs taking up air? It leaves a pit in my stomach, so empty and so cold. Nobody gives a damn about her, especially the one who should have the most.

Have you ever found a light in that pit? One so warm and compassionate that chased away all that darkness? She held onto that light-her new family,never again did she want to go back for she was finally someone.

Someone people cared about, someone people saw. Someone that wouldn't be passed or ignored. All it really takes... is just one person.

Have you ever felt that light dying, feel the tenderness dwindle away? See the glow get eaten alive by the shadows from before? It's sad to never be acknowledged, but to have a taste of that hand pulling you away from the wall, the light finally falling in your eyes and to be pushed back to the same place as before is a tragedy.

And when that heart is torn up from the same feelings they tried to get away from from the start;
I just want to ask, is it still funny?


Sick & Twisted


Sick. So so sick. You are.
Disgusting and sad, yet so hurtful.
I have finally met you, the fucked up people Luis tells me about. Those who take self pleasure in bringing anyone down. The ones that laugh at someone else's discomfort and pain, reveling when you can amplify the torment. You are built from mockery and control. Your eyes seek only weakness and your ears deaf but to the lament of your victims.

That's what you are, sick and twisted, so sick and twisted...
I wish I could take every last tear you left me with and gouge what "heart" you have in your rotting flesh of a body. I hope you choke on your malice and it shreds your throat open from the inside out.
You repulse me the most.




I think I'm afraid of going to sleep. Because thats when secrets aren't secrets anymore, when the only thing that protects you is darkness and even that is something we can't trust to keep our raw self from the things that want to hurt it.

Its actually probably not even that, but the insecurities that keep swarming my mind while I lay there and jump from thought to thought without clear reasoning. I can't focus anymore, or maybe there's just nothing for me to focus on.

I believe its just the realization, as I'm propped up against a pillow on my bed in the lightless environment. The low hum of the computer, the silence from my phone and the emptiness. No matter what, when you fall asleep you are utterly alone-in mind and sense-until you wake up again.

I used to love playing that card game. That is, before I was aware of how alone I was playing it.


They'll Listen


I sung for you one time and you were so quiet after the song was over. I asked if everything was okay and got silence. I suppose I'm used to receiving nothing as an answer but it still hurt. Eventually you lifted your head and told me you've never heard anything like that in a while, "How do you do it?" 
It was my turn to be quiet. I used to have a dream that I kept chasing. You looked so sad and broken in front of me, so I took your hands in mine. "Listen," I say softly, and you do. That's what makes you the first person I look for when I'm standing on that stage in front of hundreds, thousands and millions.

"I used to be the kid that nobody cared about, you just have to keep shouting until they hear you out."


Its Never Fair


"If you're lonely, put your finger there and I'll think of you"

I want you to look at me, and I'll look at you. You might smile or you might not, but you can be sure I will. 

We spend a lot of time; talking. I suppose its a bit expensive-words can be quite costly these days-but we do it anyways. We get what we pay for, don't we?

My mother tells me its bad to swear, but for you I will. I swear I'll cut across the gray skies and color them blue by hand. I'll push the corners of your mouth up for a smile. I'll have chicken pot pie ready for you whenever you're sick. I'll lose my heartbeat to hear yours one last time. And, I'll always have my hand ready to pick you up again, even if you take someone else's instead...


The Suggestion


Maybe we'll start feeling the air fall, maybe I'll finally get to hold the warmth of your heart in my hands, and maybe the moon will be too bright but it won't change my mind.

What an exquisite voice!
I suppose if he suggested for me to eat the fruit, I would have without a thought. You should know that I rob, I don't steal. We're all sinners here, promise.