Wailing

Waking up once again, as my eyes are blinded by the screaming sunlight,

I dare ask: why? why such pain?

I’d rather say, ‘When a lightening bolt strikes on a sunny day,

Would you dare claim, “ignorance is a bliss?”’

Yet the darkness comes back, embracing the burn wounds, and whispering calm zephyrs

Saying, “grit your teeth, churn your soul, strike the roaring iron with a full-gripped hammer,

“Tomorrow’s a new day, a chance to grapple with your fate. Build your world, breath your dreams”

The darkness and light dances it’s ephemeral flight.

5.25.2020

Gratitude

Thank you, for allowing me to see this day light, a stream of crystals glistening the atmosphere that I breath in.

That you, for allowing me to memorize the sound of the wind swooshing like an ocean wave crashing into the bank of sand.

Thank you, for this tantalizing droplet of water, respite of the spirit and body, as it quenches the unresting soul in the heart.

5.13.2020

Prayer

Please, let me be stronger.

Please allow me to lift this cross.

Please inspire me to make an effective decision.

I made a promise. That I’ll be there.

Please grant me strength to endure those thousands of needles, darkness, and coldness. I need to be there.

5.12.2020

Swing

Remember when your words actually carried vignettes of meanings and feelings?

Remember when love was so painfully sweet, dangerously entangled life and death?

Remember that downhill valley speeding down in darkness before the dawn, wondering what tricked you to pull the trigger?

5.10.2020

Roll

Would you throw the dice?

Knowing that one thousand years of anguish awaits in one of the six windows, would you still throw the dice?

Or would you rather lay down the dice, sip on the hot warm tea wrapped around your fingers and warming your teeth and your chest?

What would you throw?

Given that five women are weeping in two of the corners, five men are marching from three sides?

What is the declines chance?

Focus. Only focus shall get you out.

5.8.2020

Prickly Hair

It’s a perverted yet irresistible habit: pulling the root of your own beard hair out from the hypodermic layer with pinched nails.

I dare you do it now. Just one tiny little beard hair. Do it. Just do it.

See? It ain’t too bad doesn’t it? It hurts a little but doesn’t it feel a bit cathartic?

Have you caught yourself yet reaching for another thread of hair? A scandalous thing that others will find out if you do it too much

But you know you want it. Just do it. Do it!

5.4.2020

Grip

It’s the gut wrenching feeling that gloomingly sits inside the top part of the heart that croaks:

“But I’ve what it takes. No one understands yet. You wait and see”

It’s a miasma that pulls your thigh, your lower back, your neck, into a tiny rectangular box:

“This is my magical being. It shall do all the things that no one will know about”

It’s the jaw muscles clenched together, wouldn’t let go of the teeth in between its bones:

“I won’t end like this. I will get somewhere. Surely there’s a better place”

Ah, but may I ask: what’s the point of it all? What’s the point of the glory and the warm and the victory?

For there shall be a downfall that lurks behind your back, a bubbly days after the dark night.

But keep on at it. Keep on.

5.3.2020