“Am I a storm to be quieted?”

Am I a storm to be quieted?
No, some of us need to scream.

I, I let you tape my mouth,
To prevent offense,
That came so easy with your prejudices.
Even after, I peeled it off,
For time I could not understand,
The new power I had gained.

Inch by inch,
I crawled back up to high ground
And found my voice again.
Here it echoes in the distance.
Though I wish you’d hear it,
It makes me content
That I’m doing something
You’d never understand.

(unpublished archive June 2015)



I’ve tried to get rid of you,
A few times now.
You’re not who I expected to be with.
You’re not the whirlwind romance or the ken doll I had in mind.
I keep pushing you away because you don’t fit their description.
You’re nice, and make me feel calm,
And you make me someone else,
I haven’t met her before.

No, I don’t protest,
But I still hold on to my expectations,
And they make me sick,
Even though perhaps I’ve gotten,
Much better than what I thought I wished.

And still I’m so scared.
If you’re different, how do I know who you are?
If you leave, I’ll blame myself for my decision,
And what will I tell my scars?

I really don’t understand how you ended up in my life.
So I keep thinking you should leave.
But every time I think it,
I pull you close,
One more kiss,
Cherishing you,
While you’re oblivious to my motive.
Oh please please don’t leave.
Maybe I’m just scared that I care.
And that it’s better to be the one to step away
Than to be left standing there.
And even worse, by a person who didn’t fit your scheme.

Love is way too fucking complicated,
And sometimes feels so overrated,
But you waking up next to me
Is what keeps me from over-thinking
Everything else to its extremes.
I guess you just end up being
The collateral damage to my mind machine.

I pray for clarity,
But it’s never there,
Except in loneliness,
And that I refuse to bear.
Clarity is in quitting,
In cutting people off,
In cleaning away dishes,
In choosing a very practical career,
In cutting off your dreams.
The great struggles of life,
They have no room for such a thing,
But they cause everything else,
The stuff worth waking up for.

Because walking away is easier than caring.
And caring is a violent storm,
But there you see all love and art,
And feeling of a beating heart.

(from the unpublished archive 2015)


My sweet devil,
Save me.
Gotten so comfortable with falling apart.

Like the dried up stream,
I run from.
At times I’m fooled.
The stream is still dry.

A quest to find some spark,
Some life.
My loving tears
Can’t turn a wasteland to a park.

What is it?
Books, songs, dances,
I see nothing.
Sometimes so foreign,
Just like laughing.

I’ve erased them.
Nothing really worth it.
No difference can be made.
Living to live,
To what?

Continue reading “Art…”

“Someone once told me, to make sure I feel my pain…”

Someone once told me
To make sure I feel my pain,
Emotions are a spectrum,
Not a fire to be tamed.
And now here I was again,
Playing it safe.
Mediocre love for mediocre pain.
But the truth cannot hide
Behind the practicality of my brain.
The hopeless romantic, the girl on fire,
The poet smiling at the rain,
They cannot be contained.
Even if in light of pain,
And seemingly hopeless wandering and days so same,
A bolder life, a wilder love,
None can deny,
The vision’s a gift from above.


Days, nights aren’t long enough for us to say “enough.”
As the clock ticks to the minute of my departure,
The journey to my new life,
I savor every second of the old,
Where you belong.
It’s times like these we wish our past could breathe a tiny bit longer,
That every minute could last a second more,
That even our imperfect pleasures,
(We fool ourselves),
Can exist again, just as before.

“The Sea”

Your assuring words blaze like sunshine on my skin,
Telling me that it’s still summer,
And there’s brightness somewhere,
Possibly here.
And just as I smile widely at the world,
I tumble into the chilly sea water,
Forced to wake up from my summer trance.
No amount of sunlight can save me from seeing you:
Waves cold, reckless, unforgiving.
You only really know the sea
When you’ve gone in too deep.

“The Park”

I really am in a movie:
My flowery dress, my wild hair,
The leather journal in my hands,
A different look upon my face.
On a hidden bench by a large bush
I look on to life around me
And my heart calms to an almost undetectable speed.
The birds behind me keep going on
Like the group of school children who jump loudly
And skip on to their teacher.
Splotches of sunlight, here and there.
A woman on a bike passes
And looks at me weirdly
As if she’s never seen a girl with a notebook before.
Perhaps she never has.
The world should be ashamed.
At least the couple that sits by me doesn’t seem to notice.
They understand better,
My romantic painted world against theirs.
Like them, I don’t want to leave.
Like them, I’m going to have to,
To go on with my life.
Sunlight hits one more time,
And the garden becomes ten shades greener.
I hear a mother whispering to her child.
Then, even in this paradise,
I think of someone.
The magic’s lost.
It’s time to leave.