Muffled

Dear you,

.

Recognizing

Despair;

Depression;

Disappointment;

Dispassionate;

Determination;

Anger;

Happiness;

Love.

.

—To whom I put down these words

When described,

Could you

Tell me

The weight of the history

Each—no, all

Nouns that had 

been 

made(and continuing) expresses?

.

For I don’t know.

Yet I’m

Adamant in sharing

These

Common, large words, as

.

Addictive in my high

Of labelling, the power

I feel when I simply call

Them out, as

Using for my advocation, when reading

When writing, when recognizing, finally,

What am I truly saying.

.

I ask you, I beg of you

What is the weight of my words?

To them. To you.

.

.

Sincerely yours,

A surrogate child of your language

Be With Me

Inspired by, Yandere Simulator.

••••••••••

As the sun took a peek, it's rays shine down upon the busy roads. A young man with short chestnut hair, with school uniform on was seen as one of the crowds.

Many people bypass him, walking and bumping along without even a mutter of an apology (Not like he can say anything, after all, he's the same). As he goes with the flow to his destination, a shiver went up his spine.

He turns slightly, found nothing out place. He waited for a bit. Then faces back to the front, continuing at a faster pace when he took a peek on his phone(?).

He goes faster.

His heart pounded, eyes dilating as he now took a full blown sprint….

…. Only stopping when he reach the gate for the train station.

He went inside, and took a seat. He felt his ears ringing, feeling more tired than ever. He should've exercised more.

As he started to think more calmly, he felt like he forgot something.

His lunch? He checked, It was here.

His books? Same thing.

His phone? Yup, safe in his body.

What did he forgot?

As he feel in deep thought, he kept glancing around the area. He caught something at his sight.

A minute left, until his train arrived.

… He'll think about it in the train.

As he stands up, he goes close to the yellow line with an appropriate distance.

A phone buzzed on his pocket. He raised a brow. Since, when did they text him at this time of day.

He took it out, and found a message. From an unknown number.

“....?”

He checks the message.

.. Oh?

He clicks down.

Oh!

A few seconds passed as he keeps clicking down.

.. H-huh?

His breath hitched. His grip loosen suddenly. As his phone tumbles down, his colour turned white.

He went to the back, following the letter's words. It says to wait here. Honestly, he didn't want to, but the push and nitpicking from his friends we're getting on his nerves. And they promised to make it worse than it is, if he didn't go.

No choice but to do it, he went. But, he didn't expect a confession.

A love confession at that.

His brain short circuited after, he didn't remember the rest.

He only snap out of it when he heard the announcer of the train. He turns--

--and suddenly felt himself flying. With a person hugging him.

Ah.. now he remembered. He rejected them and took off.

Guess this is -------

All he remember seeing then was a red line speeding down to him, until his sight turned dark.

••••••••••

Question.

Who hugged him?

The promise of repetition

Is a weak peace of mind,

Dangling like the balance

Of rickshaws,

Shared one and two-ways

Derailing thoughts

To the station tracks for long

And then, and then

…

.

The promise of repitition

Is of no reprieve from

Moans of limbs

As you hung on the mountain, the

Little helper a rope on your waist

And with the stopper

Called friend,

A human;

A dog;

A cat;

A plant;

A memory;

A sentiment;

A friend;

.

…A person.

.

Repitition is of a phase—

Should be a phase,

For staying in limbo

Bears lightness

No person could take

Without risking all

For the sake of

Finding

A peace.

A Sip

Licking wounds

from the already

faded but still

reddened cheeks.

It‘s the eyes,

the twitch

of the

brows to the

muscles of the

mouth—

.

I can see it talk.

I can hear it speak.

I can feel many thoughts.

but maybe it

wasn’t.

.

A past is backward.

Did you ever took

a step forward?

A Lullaby

Thank you. For the bottom of their heart, for existing.

.

But they do not say, for their tongue feels the weight of a star. A very whimsical, forgetful star. Such a thing it is they cannot catch it for longer than a second, and can only feel the sensation before it burns where they are cradled and goes far, far away.

Believe in Me

I told them:

.

I had believed I was a messenger of

Heaven;

I still believed I see

Devils on my mirror;

I can believed that my

Beliefs hold me, and I speak beyond my blood

And colour—an organ, carrying my identity with it, pumping my life and no

More than it that.

.

I was made of flesh, born, and see the basin carrying water

To be baptist as newborn under the cross,

Under the view of my

Religion. I assumed, it was

Like many others I witnessed as young kin

Of church.

.

And older, a day, a month, a year, in another country later:

Icy-veins I felt from the fingers to my arms, to my toes, frozing in untangilabe scare, alone

In my dark, dark room.

I was 12, weeping and thought:

I wished my hesrt to resist, let it be stone

So I would not cry, to simmer my anger out

Why not!?

.

It rejects

I reject it:

And heart pounded, my tears

Crinkling from my eyes, hanging off my eyelids

Down, down, to the floor

To my

homely

floor.

My throat chokes

I cannot keep it still.

.

My mind reeled to a story of a memory

I hoped to think I truly do hold dear: My silly mistakes, my promises,

My lies,

My childhood: I was living

Off the floor, a computer and I was

Everywhere, nowhere, but grounded

In my little corner of the

Room.

.

Don’t let me forget you, child.

.

Forget to pray, to beg, to be arrogant,

Be nothing but the silence you permeates

Around you.

.

Don’t forget this lesson, child

You born under the cross,

Once aquianted with the church every Sunday

At mass

And now you see yourself not

A follower

But a lover of arts

And a hyprocite of your religion,

Learning alongside them

And you see it, oh yes,

So close and you are there;

So far and you are the only one here.

.

Be still my beating heart.

.

It asks, “What are you, if nothing

But a walking dead?”

.

I believed to be an animal, a person,

Speaking, recognizing, engaging,

Walking on two feet.

.

It asks again, “Are you true?”

.

Again, I told them:

.

I believed because the rest of me

Can cry,

Can twinkle my toes,

Can laugh,

Can hate,

And love.

I can move and heart,

My dear heart, the holder of my being: “You are alive.

And I am alive.”

.

I can think, therefore I am here. I am living as you,

and

you as me.

Pen

Smooth Scratches, thin point

One to four, Black to rainbows

My, what a fine pen!

Opinion of A Belief

Series of thin coils.

Bit and bit, a pull whilst in peace

In months, days, minutes,

Seconds

The line is never-stopping.

.

Fingertips are humming

My mind wandering,

My feet are planted

And my heart

Murks

And sinks.

.

To cringe

Infer from the scene

Of the tone

Red and blue, mixing purples and

Shades.

Nerves of my wrist,

My calves,

Screaming like

My veins

.

Thin, bit and bit, I pulled.

Wisps of the thread disappears

behind.

I see the dust

Ever-constant,

As the bubbles of rage

On my throat.

.

My fingertips still burn.

Keep going

For my position

And my

person

Ever-moving.

I am Me

I am a contradicting, careless traveler

I wonder if I could ever relate to all living things

I hear tumbles and rumbles that makes me act on impulse

I see colours blending, shaping my world

I want to share my view of universe with my hands

Letting them see the diversity it has

I am a contradicting, careless traveller

I pretend to be predictable but in truth

I want to feel unpredictable

I touch my consciousness and see my deeper self

Worrying if my words are permanent or fake

I cry my confusion and regrets away to see my present reality

I am a contradicting, careless traveller

I understand that everything is connected

I say the world’s end is the beginning of life

I dream flickering images of my future

I try to see it all

And hope to grow

I am a contradicting, careless traveller

Power

”How the mighty hath fallen.”

I said this to the man.

His body was adorned with gems

It looked pure alone, but under his they are lower than dirt.

.

Before me was the lord of the fief

Once I had idolized him

But that was before he robbed me of my family

And my feelings as a human being.

.

I thought that power could save me

So I picked up his post

Terrorizing the land

Orders and whip lashes

And finally, I gained what I need.

But now

Decades had passed

Jewellery clothed me

Maidens had been ravaged by me

The citizens’ smiles were sweet

Life is good

Yet my heart didn’t agree, laying only still.

.

Suddenly my vision became red

Voices came, but only from my mouth

It wasn’t words, it wasn’t pleads of beg or help—

but indescribable yelps.

.

Then I was laid on a wooden platform

A thin long metal loomed over me.

I looked at the people

Their faces still wore the same mask

.

Smiling but yet laced with contempt

And revenge.

.

I tilted up my head, my eyes following, as far as I can go.

.

I realized

Even with the behaviour they showed

And jeers whenever they opened their lips

I had felt nothing.

.

As if, ever since, nothing had changed.

.

”Oh how the mighty hath fallen.”

Then I felt myself disconnect.