Saddest thing ever

When you’re feeling alone and riddled with fear in the dark of the night
And playing catch in an empty living room with a helpless playful dog for the sake of his negligible happiness

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Love at work

Showered in money
Showered in billions and billions of dollars of money
Off the backs of useless labor
Showered in a waste of paper sheets
And meaningless ambitions
Playing with delusion
Laughing at the great wide
Nothing
Feeling gratified by useless schemes
Phony wins
Empty mouths wide open
And blank delights in our eyes
We laugh and we laugh and we laugh
Holding hands
In this crazy, peculiar abyss
With no reason to live
Breathing dust
Showered in billions and billions of dollars of money

Money

Yin Yang

Maybe it’s time, I don’t know, it happens every late morning
And once in a while before bed…
This feeling of total control over my life
It’s like magic, with tricky hands
I can see where the ball strikes next
And wins.
It’s like that in your harried presence
It’s your commanding glare
Looking at my
Dirty skin and hair
But I didn’t fear that one time
I looked at you
And once more, it was an empty room
Full of eyes
Fire on fire
Ice on ice
Yet you behaved oblivious
And I used to wish that you’d know it
But now
I can feel the humid summer night breeze that strike
And resonate like the way of stringed instruments
Whose sound move to the flow of the ocean waves
And indicate
Somewhere in the depths of your holy soul
The dirty scumbag
That you wanna scratch clean with your finger nails
And get down and dirty on the ground with

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Vacant wedding

“Maybe I’ll have a song like this in my wedding,” she quickly thought and told her friend, while dancing out of sync with a drink in one hand. Her lips were frozen in a half smile, and her eyes were distant. She almost fell down, but her friend gathered her up. That would have been painful, thought the friend… considering how out-of-shape she was. The woman continued to dance, bending her knees up and down. The friend thought about her own toddler nephews who danced like that. The woman’s looped up shawl moved to the side, exposing an unkempt tattoo on her upper arm. From the distance, it looked like a big black mole over her pale cottage-cheese like arm. A song that the woman liked began to play, and she began shouting it out of tune. Tonight was the highlight of her year. She hadn’t had this much fun in months. Tonight was an opportunity to drink. Tonight was an opportunity to block out all the issues in her life until the next day. But she’d been doing that all her life anyway; all forty-five years.

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Magical bird

In my childhood, I saw something on TV that stuck with me. This guy entered an empty house full of… birds? They flew around in slow motion. They shined. They were women. It was a house full of beautiful women. They smiled and they greeted each other silently. They walked around in slow motion. He observed them as he walked between them and around then. A woman, with a sweater on, looked at his direction and smiled. He smiled idly and waved back at her. She walked towards him and his happiness lingered with a sigh of relief. She walked past him and greeted her friend. His smiled dropped. It was as if he was completely nonexistent.

I’d say hi to him. I wouldn’t ignore him. I’d comfort him. I’d lead him through this oddly foreign territory. I’d smile next to him. I’d put my head on his shoulder and link my arm to his. We’d sit on the sofa underneath the ray of sunlight penetrating through the window. I’d look at him and he’d look at me, and we’d be lost in each other’s eyes in a vast blue sea of wonder. We’d form a pyramid with our finger tips. I would whisper of love and my dreams and fill the void in his empty heart. It’s true. That’s what I’d do, if I were a magical bird.

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Missed you by a minute

I missed you by one minute… this world could’ve been ours. I saw my reflection where my hair was flying when I rushed out the glass door. I was just a girl, running. Running away from something, running away from someone. Running away from the world, my life, everything. I missed you by one minute when I ran away. You arrived the next minute, but I was already gone by then. I could hear you from behind a different door; a different dimension. And like most things in life, I just knew that the timings couldn’t go right. I could’ve sworn I sensed it when I was running away. Still, I hoped to catch you in the next minute if I hurried back. But when I did, you were gone one minute earlier.

I pass by where you once might’ve stood, with silence ringing in my ears. I internalize that I’m right– it wouldn’t work out. And the cobwebs control my isolated heart
And I sink into a pool of nothing
And the world could never feel as empty as it does
When I missed you a minute ago…

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Closed classroom

When it began, I was just a timid girl with the weight of the classroom around me. Foreign faces and loud voices. I clearly couldn’t open up here. But your projects were interesting, Mrs. J, and you gave me a mission. I ran into the classroom the next morning with new ideas, and we tested them out with experiments. Science was a dose of therapy; a curious mystery. Sometimes I could sit on the lab stool and forget about the world while pipetting samples. Once my heart beat fast while awaiting the sugar cube experiment. We had a mission, professor, and we had energy. We bounced ideas; there were no dumb questions. The school was a haven. And this classroom; once apprehensive and full of uncertainty, became a fun backyard.

But then then the funding waned, and the project ended. And the season was over.

Seeing this once energetic hub now with empty seats and scattered papers gave me a sinking feeling. And then to see you, professor, with your look so timid and your voice subdued; I got the feeling that this is the end.
This is what the end feels like–
a sinking feeling,
a closed classroom.

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