Anklet

Bound to me in a dream I was unaware of, it has stayed in its place and kept the essence of my travels much better than I have. The dust, dirt, rain, and scum of those places are woven into soften shoots of its body. A guardian in your place, a mythical creature of sorts, has kept me company in solemnity. Passing the days as such, its beads that rest against my skin act as a reminder of your touch.

No wonder I felt so pained for so long.

It seemed to me that the knot I made would not break even if a knife were wedged between the interlinked hands. Then I pulled it apart, as though the seasons passed were only as precious so long as I let my reverie tell the truth. The strength of things, is only a reflection of how much our belief weighs. Once that belief returns to the clouds in the particles of rainwater, the fragility of our existence begins to unravel ever so cruelly.

Accept it, or not, that is up to you to decide.

A mere piece of rope around the ankle, who knew it was capable of suffocating its wearer? Harmless as it may seem, being tied up still makes us unable to move on. With the undoing of its body, I am saddened by the death of its significance. So long, keeper of  hope, may you one day return to live alongside me as the bearer of strength, teacher of patience.

The End of the End, Look Up Ahead

The beginning of a happy ending has finally seen its end. Sealed by the knots of not so much fate, but intervention of the distastefully ordinary, the scroll I thought would stretch the length of this worldly existence has proved to be yet another fabled faux. And so the search continues for the divine parchment with the writings of my fate. As my shadow curates the artifact of a much laboured excavation guided by hope alone, I sleep in its place welcomed by the sands of time.

Sleep.

Put your thoughts to rest.

Hush.

Let us cradle you.

Delicate soul wounded by the ways of the living, sleep a peaceful sleep untroubled by dreams, untouched by fear. As long as you are with us, breathe your every breath like your last and let go of your fists that protect nothing. We will fill the rivulets where your tears used to run with pearls born out of affection, to your loss. 

Sleep.

Put your thoughts to rest.

一人

二人、三人、四人、五人...

まだ独りで食堂へ食べに行きます。もいいです。

まだ独りで歩いて、寮へ帰ります。もいいです。

まだ独りで切符を買って、映画館で映画を見ます。もいいです。

まだ独りで。何時も独りで。

ね。

City Under the Sea

To torch the gloom from within this room where our first night was shared, I pulled open the curtains, only to have the rail collapse. Assaulted by the influx of brightness which I seldom tolerate, I sit by the bed, breathing it in, hoping that it would kill the cancer inside me. My gaze fixed upon nothing as I continued to ignore the view. Cloudless was the sky, without doubt. 

Then in the night when the irregular beating of the heart is especially strong, I turned to face the curtainless windows. Lights blinking, lights unblinking, lights guiding. Blurred by my poor vision and the dewdrops gathered by the banks of my eyes, the city seemed to be submerged, existing as a place under the sea. I thought it was beautiful, as beautiful as the rainbow-coloured scales belonging to de mooiste vis van de see. I fell asleep like that, zo alleen. 

Awakened by the splitting of Sunflower seeds, the last moments of sleep were shrouded in warm May sunshine and the love I wish still lived.

I turned to face the curtainless windows again. The chariot of the Gods seem to have lost its way, as I lie here in bed awaiting its glorious arrival. Enveloped in a thick mist, the clouds are so tightly woven that not even the sky can be seen. Do I deserve not even the blessing of Apollo? 

Truly, the city cries in the morning rain. 

Now, it really exists under the sea. Any moment now, my lungs will be filled by the water I breathe. 

Catharsis

I seek words like whores to purge this soul of unnecessary pity and fear, that the void dug by my emotions may be eaten away by the pleasure that they might give. So I seek the rhythm and song of many in hopes that my soul reaches orgy and purity as these unnecessary emotions swell up like a tumor bound to my heart, leaking foul pus of impurity that begs to be drained, cleansed and rid of. Cut it out, and I might die.

The abject can only be repeated, never purged. It may come the next time in the form of a friend that whispers false hopes beside your ears, holding your hand, leading you down alleys of delicate lilac-coloured veins: do not be afraid, all your pity will be but a faint glimmer from yesterday's eclipsed Moon.

Drift off into the wind on a rotting plank with the appearance of fine furniture dipped in shellac, the surface of the still lake will carry you nowhere while you wake up the next day and find yourself in a place not quite similar, yet not quite different. The face of the Sun is encircled with numbers 1-12, and the number 3 seems to be bursting, the vultures overhead make a full circle thrice, before descending upon you in a rain of feathers soft. You never kept your eyes open for me-- blame the deformed clouds, gliding over your body blanketed by darkness.

At the edge of the well stands an animal with twisted horns that curl the way the hair of your lover curls, as if a demon, stones are hurled at its unfaltering body. Bleeding, it sings:

Auf den Ästen in den Gräben

ist es nun still und ohne Leben

Und das Atmen fällt mir ach so schwer

Weh mir, oh weh

Und die Vögel singen nicht mehr