16° 

the empi

have my nerves

dancing wildly

i felt

my breath

pump lowlights

loud sound

and

unnerving laugh

wasn’t dizzy enough

even if

i drink two shots

wasn’t dizzy enough

to be

considered drunk

all i know

i just want

to throw it all up

In the streak of light,

I rub the sweetest sour.

It’s tangy, and it lingers.

Not in the beginning,

nor at the end.

It is stuck in the state of middle.

I try to claw it out.

Rolling it onto different texture,

but it remains to be a burning sensation.

One that could be more on ‘morrow.

Artemis once fervently smiled at the moon,

The eyes who witnessed her fair smile swoon,

And those, touched by her grace—

Saw their chains start to unbind to the abyss of a maze. 

Gifts that come from her innocent tone,

Were given to mere mortals who became too eager for it to hone.

Her only wish is for them to cherish the chalice of truth—

That no harm should ever be shone;

Alas, the crown falls to all the brutes.

Since then, the crowd cried as they forsook the huntress of the moon.

Fiddling crystal balls,

As the lights continue to flicker to different colors.

Laughter encompasses the gallery.

Sweetness surrounds the streets—

Something wet rolls down on my cheeks,

As I put back the images of worn-out hourglass—

Darkness surrounds once full of warm wraiths.

Whispers of the west continue to exist—

As the crimson banner continues its dance,

the longing hearts in the east are full of distress in their eyes.

Our touch disappears,

Lost in the sway of time in the north.

Once wake up in a room full of sunshine and rainbows;

One blink and those turns into greys and sorrows.

Dangling in the phenomenon of haven—

Few ‘morrow and home has been taken.

It’s never too easy to glide with words and voice thoughts;

Mistakes are inevitable—

Feverish thoughts echo like a caveman.

Intentions are worded skewed and mistaken as foolish.

Strong winds deliver a mighty blow to a growing tree;

Alas, I’m a fool, as falling leaves should never be found in one of my circus—

Had I not indulged in the metaphor, chaos beyond control wouldn’t have been unleashed.

How heartless it seems, but bleeding is not what I want you to feel or think—

It’s the gushing pain I want to send, not a thousand knives juggled as a clown.

I may have gone out and become a catalyst of mischief in the grave.

These days,

I reside in a place that I call Black Hole—

sometimes, a roll of rope would fall, which I will use to escape.

I am ready to pull it and climb with my cassette tape;

but without a minute passing by, it’s already gone.

I am back again, and nothing is done.

Falling Endlessly into the Black Hole—

pitch black, like I was under a huge and heavy shawl.

Just me holding the mixtape.

I want to stop trying to climb the rope;

but I can’t get up to hold myself and stop missing the stars that are full of hope.

It just feels like I am kept to continuously mope.

Do I not deserve to be out of this endless loop?

I have been here for ages.

How many hardships do I need ’till I reach the end of the pain pages?