Unconscious minds, robotic lives, synthetic food,
Industrialization, expedited technological progression, automation
The labor force driven by coffee and lack of sleep
Careless destruction of nature…
Children nurtured by media
Animals, our puppets
In the news yesterday, a girl accidentally killed her sister carelessly while drunk driving. She sounded apathetic when she talked. I felt sharp anger towards her. I thought she didn’t deserve this world nor this life anymore. She was a disgrace to society; a murderer of her own innocent sister. She seemed to sound crazy when she talked. She looked emotionless; it was as if she was possessed. She’s the type that no one will ever understand. She’s probably hurt. This world is full of hurt. Full of walking souls; miserable, in pain. In the end, I wanted to give her a hug. I imagined the faraway and numb look on her face.
I wanted to go home and hug my little sister. I’d give up a limb for her.
I got confronted at the bus stop several weeks back. It wasn’t a big deal but I still recall how I chose to remain silent and composed while the bus driver laughed.
I got yelled by the same guy for a mistake he made while he was inattentive. I’m sure he realized his mistake and felt bad afterwards, but I still got hurt.
When my mom yells at me due to frustrations in her own life, I know she’s not the perpetrator and nor am I the victim. I just know that sometimes we get treated as people’s punching bags. Sometimes it hurts being passive; people really may not know how sensitive I really am inside. It hurts me, and my eyes moisten in the silence amid darkness. But the sounds of crickets at night whisper to me that they really do know. My sensitivity is as clear as daylight; it really isn’t something that I could ever hide very well. Yet I understand why we get treated as punching bags. The perpetrators are hurting as much as the victims themselves. Everybody’s swimming in a sea of hurt. A dead man killed on the cross is a hurtful sight that’s inspired an entire religion. We’re all just walking around carrying our own stories and burdens. It’s a quiet world if we just let our minds hush. It’s a loving world if we just look into each other’s teary eyes.
I wouldn’t mind if every day I had to get up to do work;
which would be to rehearse some type of classical instrument with others in a sort of musical ensemble.
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…
Maybe we’ll always be in this place, where you’ll be the beast and I’ll be…
Forever under this spell
Standing by the cliff and always wanting more
Flying with the dry white dandelions that take me somewhere, higher and higher
In a revolving world inside a glass enclosure
Where I sleep amid flowers
Dreaming as the days go by
Wishing with all my tender heart
For what seems like forever
As the world spins
Under a golden confetti
That rest all around, and over my closed eyes
when the time comes
Intermittent. Everything in life is intermittent. I wanna feel high all the time. I wanna feel like I’m living nice all the time. But everything is intermittent. Everyone just sleeps at night or stays primarily quiet during the day thinking amongst themselves like lunatics. The highs that we feel together lasts only a few seconds, then during these intermittent times, we recall them, over and over again; artificially making the highs seem much longer than they really were. The highs suddenly become much higher than they really were. Our memories falsely recalls the past as if it was full of highs. We don’t remember that the past was, in fact, mostly intermittent. Just like it is now.
We lie in a room surrounded by our close ones during these intermittent times. We’re quiet next to each other and too busy thinking about the few second highs.
We’re just zombies waiting to wake up, waiting to feel the next high; while we’re bound like prisoners to our decaying bodies, ticking with the clock, during long intermittent times.
Tonight I turn to the stars, faceless,
Turn into night clouds, grey and transparent, rolling over the skies like a mystic.
Tonight I stand atop the hill, slouched like an empty bowl, alone and crazy
like a silent maniac
While thunderstorms cut across
And the grey seas snatch with temper
Angry at me
While I stand mute
Wordless, thoughtless, and unable to make sense
As the world tumbles over and the end nears
Awaiting an answer
From a faceless, coreless, puff of air.