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I wanna walk with you along the shore but I need to hope for the waves to erase my footprints. I am not yet ready to be traced.

When you trust, you always live in the moment. You do not dwell in the past nor care about what may happen in the future. You just trust - like a leaf completely surrendering itself to the wind, never minding if it leads him to the rocky mountains of befuddlement or the vast ocean of uncertainty.

when the world is hushed at 3 o’clock in the morning.

i used to feel pain—
an inevitable pain which can be cured
by buying a yellow cotton candy,
or having a short walk in the
carnival,
watching my favorite juggler do
his tricks,
fooling myself by believing in
magic.

i used to feel pain—
a pain that vanishes easily with
just a sight of a butterfly,
or the flying kites in the meadow
or by owning li’l amount of rain
water in my bare hands
(only to loose them in just a wink)

i am willing to sacrifice
everything i have right at this
moment
just to go back to the time
when i get a lot of dirt in Mum’s
newly-washed
white shirt
but then,
i cared not.

BUT IT’S ALL OVER.

all i can feel is pain
as if the pain and my very
existence are one.

a pain,
which cannot be justified
by scars and tears.

a pain
which made me realize
that i am a child
no more.

* a poem I made two years ago which exactly describes how I feel tonight.

I just want to go back to the fairyland.

But I lost my way. And I can never find that way, unless I give in to the temptation of being a child once again.  The reality blinded me much that I cannot anymore see stars in the morning sky, butterflies in a busy street, and golden dusts in the scorching heat of the sun…let alone encounter monsters, dark-blooded villains, blood-sucking wolves and vampires. I cannot anymore be thrilled with a magic carpet ride or a broomstick-riding-tutorial. The magic I so scrupulously keep in my heart is now altered with the world’s unbelievable austerity.

Black and white, no shades of gray—that would make you earn a badge engraved with the word ‘MATURITY’. Leave the magic to the kids…a matured person knows far better than believing in it. It sucks, really. The world wants you to act your age when you can’t/don’t even feel that you’re aging.  No more fairies—you’re meant to care about heavier issues like politics and environment and human rights and all the other things that a child doesn’t care about. You’re meant to care for these things when you don’t even know what the heck could your one soul do to change the world. And worst, you don’t even know what a ‘changed world’ means—is it a better or a worse world?

I just want to go back to the fairyland.

she comes to you like a

damsel in distress

looking for a knight

who could give her a ride -

he who could take her

back to her kingdom

where she could dance freely

in the sun-kissed pavements

of the jailed paradise.

she comes to you just like that -

acting as if she’s dying

to get home.

but deep inside her heart

are silent prayers for

a long, long journey

just to be with you.

Ditto

I tried hard to find stringent

pellets of sunshine

That shall brag hope for my tomorrow

But it was a little too late.

I stood here, in a ground which

formed unwanted valley of cracks,

with eyelashes growing heavier each minute,

silently watching the darkness

forming ornate angles of my shadows.

My ears are frozen by the deafening odds

as thy plaintive anthem starts.

I heard nothing but claps of thunder—

a peal of thunder that is

louder than before,

louder than it can ever be.

Then with my viewless wings,

I landed on the same place.

I frivolously wandered on the same roads,

streets, castles, oceans, and seas.

I’ve heard the self-same song that

spells immemorial disgraces

and found out that I’ve been here

for the zillionth time now.

So I strolled languidly, back into the

place where I really belong.

Bed, pillows, blanket, and a ray of sunshine

come penetrating my window.

As I awaken saying: Fled is that dream.

Time Crisis

I didn’t know I can have that one, fat claustrophobic ass until today. I thought not of any other reason why. I’m dead sure that I hate this boisterous crowd simply because I can’t seem to find you in it. Or maybe because having thousands of people around tires my eyes so much - you know, finding a shirt, bag, cap, or anything that is exactly like your stuff (I do this to amuse myself). And if I, for any instance, can’t find a stuff like yours, then a common friend that could help me know where you are (and why, out of all instances, did you have to be late today) would be wanted.

I got not a new message.

Area 1 cleared.

The dressing is not enough for the lettuce. If you were here, you would say that I should be contented—that the chef knows how the salad would go, and that my only obligation is to taste what he believes to be a perfect salad. I would not agree, of course. I would highlight the importance of the condiments placed in the table, and the add-ons written on the menu. That equates to the chef not believing that his salad (or any other dish) is perfect. You would smile as if I said nothing and then eat the whole damn thing you ordered as it is—nothing to spice it up.

I got not a new message.

Area 2 cleared.

“Strawberry and cream, please.”

“AGAIN? Why not change the flavor?”

“You know how much I love strawberries.”

“Try something new.”

I would insist that I like strawberries, and you would eventually give up. You would get me the frappucinno, and reiterate that I have boring tastebuds. I would drink as if I heard nothing.

I got not a new message.

Area 3 cleared.

It’s my 19^th birthday, btw. The moon said happy birthday and it revealed to me what I should do. I called you. But the operator said that you’re in an out of coverage area. That I should try my call later. How dare her instruct me what to do?

I got not a new message.

Continue?

Somebody slashed me. My face bled. I hid. Used my right foot to take action, but they threw a bomb. THEY THREW A BLOODY BOMB. Blood shed. A 3-second blackout.

The next thing I saw was a 20-second countdown. Continue? No thanks, I should go.

I got not a new message.

Insert coin to play again

You promised that we would end this fight together. You failed. I died.

I got not a new message.

it hurts

knowing that

you are living

in the world

next to mine.

                    and my love - it’s

                    not enough to serve

                    as your oxygen

                    forever.

7,295 miles

too bad i can only

smile at you virtually -

hug you by typing

the magical

three-letter word

and kiss you by hitting

the colon and the asterisk.

i really wish you were here.

Dutch Mill.

i sure know

that wherever you are,

whatever you do,

you’d still have

the same old

strawberry

yogurt drink.

same brand.

same size.

and the same

manner of drinking.

allow me to underestimate

time’s power of changing

things.