Poetry

Pain is my old reticent friend

I wait for it to arrive

But to refuse its embrace

And how I long to live in a world of reflections

Forever fragmented, forever

free from the need to piece together a whole form

forever able to gaze into your eyes and say

Look, I am not here.

I am not here,

not amongst the blank lines of text

not in the corners of the pages

not amongst the tangled, criss-crossing lines.

I am not here,

nowhere at all.

Yet all I wish is to be in your embrace.

But the words have abandoned me

Cruelly; they no longer linger in my thoughts

And so I can only clumsily

pick them up, one by one, and plead with them

Look, I am still here.

I don't know where the wind squeezed its way into the room

causing the air to turn cold all of a sudden

Like a newborn fawn, I curl up

in the thin quilt still meant for summer

wondering when winter will finally arrive

just as I wonder about my future fate, and the cat's moods

always certain yet elusive

Words are the language through which I communicate with the world

yet language too withers with time, losing its life

mocking the weariness of its user

I feel as though I can see its eyes fixed upon me.

Overlaid upon the narrowed eyes of young lover

like the faintest sunlight

and like a drowsy crescent moon

I do not know where to look.

Your softness, warmness

Slipped across my dry skin

Slowly, unstoppably

Drowned me

I hugged you by breathing

You came into me

You became me

And I became the whole universe

Trillions of stars are you

Black holes are you

The twinkling sparks behind pupils

Are also you

I am a driftwood on the current

The tide rushes at me

Where am I going?

I am being sliced and diced

Disassembled and reassembled

Then again

Break into pieces

I am a collection of broken pieces

Or broken pieces of a collection?

My

Ridiculous emotions,

Self-exile and self-destruction

My

Unworthy sufferings,

Holding on and escaping

I am in the middle of the vortex

I sink

The world

Sinks with me

When I fall into the abyss

Who will fall with me?

Falling, falling

Be millions of broken pieces

Then let me pick you up

Just as

You pick me up.

I remember the snoring at cinema

Me riding down a hill on the back of a bicycle through mother's telling

Black retinas buried in alcohol

Chapped lips and wet cotton swabs in front of the bed

Eternal notes and songs in the cold and dry air

Wrap me; mutilate me; stand by me

I am a fragment of memories

You are a lullaby shattering memories

Let me

Live in the early autumn evening at the age of fourteen

And let me

Die on that night

Layers upon layers of sound

Siege me; blindfold me

In a glass jar

Pile up into gluey monsters

Only except for

Your voice

Inch by inch held me up

Left the silent canyon

Flowed into the noisy

Sea of you