it’s an honor
to be here
at this moment
and hold these people
with my arms.
allow me to be useful to them
allow me to keep my principles
allow me to grow.
11.13,2023
come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
it’s an honor
to be here
at this moment
and hold these people
with my arms.
allow me to be useful to them
allow me to keep my principles
allow me to grow.
11.13,2023
when the truth is not what I want, I often morph it into a storyline I want it to be and put it over my eyes and ears. When it bit me, I said it was my sacrifice I willingly made. When it stole from me, I said I willingly gave to it. When it lied to me, I said I knew the truth already, but willingly feigned to believe the lie.
But in the end, the story never held,
and dark spots started to spread all over.
From the start to the finish nothing had changed.
so I told myself, I won’t do this again.
11.12.2023
She had bushy permed black hair like an average middle-aged woman. Occasionally she would chew gum as our heads stared at my math textbook where I scribbled solutions to each question. Like her dog, she was observant. She would quietly hug me from behind for a few seconds, release me softly, and mumble, “It is sort of an emotion-deprived syndrome, you know.” Her son would enter her tiny apartment during our session, slip into a bathroom across a thin wall next to where we sat, and take his hot shower. She would spread a large towel arms-wide to cover her son as he slipped out of the steamy bathroom into his room; he was too tall for the apartment. In the kitchen, she pulled out a white cubic styrofoam box. She called my attention, opened it like a Pandora’s box, and stared at my face, challenging me. Black, wrinkled, and bare-bone chicken feet sat in the box hopelessly. She pulled two out, one to me, another to her mouth. She sucked it with her jaw and then spewed out little white pills of bones. I followed, feigning courage, but my stomach was already ready to repel what was to come. Cold, rigid, and salty, I wanted to destroy it as soon as possible. When it dissipated into my stomach, I was grateful. She smiled. I felt the warmth coming back. I had grown up a little then.
11.11.2023
let’s laugh about it.
the problems, mistakes, the faults,
let’s laugh about them all
and let’s pick it up again
from where we fell down
and keep going at it
until we get a crack at it
in the meanwhile
let’s laugh about it all.
11.10.2023
it’s as if I woke up
finding myself old.
I am still in the playground,
but now I am the adult
overlooking the kids.
well, let’s play the role
but not to play the same script,
but with my experience imbued,
I will play this role
for the next generation.
11.9.2023
starting at one point,
it was okay to just be okay.
we didn’t need to worry
if the sky will fall or the earth will sink.
we laughed without nervousness
we joked with an abundance of the ocean.
no bitterness or grizzled scars or anger.
we all know where we are headed
and in the end,
we’d all like to remember our smiles and loves.
11.8.2023
this morning,
as I put on my pants in my slumber,
I realized there’s no hole left in my belt;
I had tightened it to its maximum.
there must be a part of me I haven’t recognized.
how much about ourselves
are we letting them slip through our fingers?
11.7.2023
I woke up in the middle of my sleep
because my lungs, gasping for air
as my throat growled with a cry.
I tried to remember what it was I cried for
but the dream had eloped into the darkness.
when I got up from my bed,
I felt a wet sympathy
and a desire to apologize
to my subconsciousness.
11.6.2023
The sun was bright
there were kids on a lawn
joyfully running together.
it was a good day to run.
leaves were leaking warm colors
brisk air hit the lips and nostrils
as my feet launched from the ground.
after a blur of rush of sceneries,
I noticed a smile.
thankfully, it was warm.
11.5.2023
what does it take to remember this moment?
this earth, for instance, how do we remember?
I lucked the ground,
chewed the ground,
and punched the ground
yet it slips from my memories
after many nights of sleeps.
a professor once said, “emotion”
but it’s one shard that hurts me the most
perhaps bitter medicine is the way to go.
11.4.2023
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