Last one at the end of the circle

It’s another season, and the planets have run down that same old circle. You’ve packed your bags and moved up to another mess, and me, it’s come down to me kneeling on the ground gasping for air, unable to breathe, dying. This is me. The one who’s supposed to get it. But what do I know? Squat. I’m afraid I’m nothing but worse than you. Fearful, insecure, irrational, crazy, and troubled. The sun’s going down and the darkness is closing in. The walls are coming together to contain me in this jail. I’ll still be here. My hair matted and in knots, my clothes ripped. Crying and drooling saliva. A being without a shell. A bundle of nerves. I’ll be rolling on the floor here, tasting dirt while tears burn my eyes. I can raise my arms out in a prayer. I can rip my clothes away and try to feel as human as I can; try to feel the air on my skin, the way the sweat drips down the side of my stomach. But I’m afraid no one wants to listen to the ultimate loser. I’ve failed. All these years of building myself up, only to go toppling fucking down. I’m afraid the only place to fall into is the absolute rock bottom. But I’ve fallen way too hard, too many times. And no one ever did it to me. Who’re you trying to prove yourself to sweetheart? You are the queen, the one who catches the sun between her fingers. The one who holds her head up high and stands on the mountain top looking at the big picture. You hurt her.

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Red planet

Here I am, in the red planet. The atmosphere here stings my skin as I sit alone in this arid dust bowl. The sky’s red and it’s making my eyes bleed. My crimped hair’s brittle and it obscures my vision. My throat’s dry and I squirm on the rocky ground in dreams of quenching thirst. My mouth thinks it’s water, but I’m eating dirt. It gets inside my fingernails. It smears across my face. I grab a handful of it and let it squeeze out of my clenched fists. Am I even human anymore? Am I a machine? Am I an empty shell? Am I just dying slowly and awaiting to be filled by your holy water in the palms of my hand?
Release me in the downpour of a summer’s rain.
Let it splash across my face like being roped in the tides of your love.
I think of jittery visions of your powerful arms around my waist from a thousand years ago, and your tender kiss underneath the waterfalls in paradise. I can warp back in time to when the world glowed before my innocent eyes, and you saw it from across the room and then asked me out.
There was a world once where the birds flew over the rainforest, and we made love on the ground after a spell of laughter. There was a time when the sun set and you followed me to the beach, and I saw its beautiful reflection in your striking eyes. Redo the moment when I was pinned against the wall and I believed in your promise of true love murmured near my ears. There are wires deep inside that bond to my brain and it recollects your hidden flesh. It resurrects before my eyes in a way that’s truly holy. If there’s god, I believe in one and it’s in the form of your warm-blooded body. Your body, that of a Greek god, naked and pale stands before me. Is it you, or are you a flickering image prerecorded and absent? I reach out my crooked finger to touch you but it just passes through. My eyes squint and blink sporadically while they shut. Let me believe that I’m not dreaming. Wake me up and tell me that we’re sitting in back of the taxi cab once more near the city shores. The city is so alive and the air is humid and hot, and there’s sweet scent of your warm breath tantalizing over my neck. I reach to cover it. My teeth are chattering. My body is shivering in cold. A wave of sediments blow and deposit over it, and I wonder how long I’ll live like this.

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The animals have become our puppets…

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

Everybody’s hurting

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.

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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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Spell

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

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