day 68

The thoughts of a midnight jogger
Can be heard
Twenty two times louder
Than the footsteps of a morning runner.

There are thirty six miles here
before us
And I'm lost between the ocean and the grass.
Feet feel like waves on steady ground
like heavy cement on calm ponds
Like st a g g  e r ed   b r e a t h i n g
h e a v i l y
with heaven between calloused palms


This is where I say:
The runner sees a light
It is similar to the sun
Feels twice as cold
Feet feel like giving up
     L     o   o  s  e 
E ve r  y t h  i n g   i s   l o o s e 
   Missing the bolts used to hold the heaviest breaths together

Tonight the jogger spots the light
 It feels like heaven
    Feet feel like heavy
                 The weight is like carrying oceans tonight
Full of monsters and below zeros
And this is where I tell you I'm tired
Feet feel like bellowing
with monsters eating at an empty stomach.
Liver is filled with burning secrets.
Reminds me of how that night felt.
Burning
at the bottom of my throat
I could breathe fire and it wouldn't light up a single
universe.

the jogger wont find what she's looking for.
She only searches at midnight.

day 67

may another name never sound as sweet

on days where my own breathing feels too cold.

there is no name for such a miracle.

heavy heaving and hard headed hearts are born when 

evening naps and warm words are necessary.

religious sanctity with safe wisdom teeth,

dear mother,

may another name never sound as sweet.

clenching heartbreaks behind closed porcelain.

words do not hurt 

if you understand the source of pain.

day 66

1 It's Wednesday early morning. 2:22 AM. Not sure if it's a sign, some sort of coincidence, among the lines of that. I am writing you this letter with hoping ink and comforting words.

2 I met you late Spring. A year ago. We both loved Pokemon, and we both loved each other. You were adventurous, handsome, and geeky. I was broken, and yeah, more broken. And lost.

3 You used to push me away more than pull me towards you. Tell me: What makes this push so much more different? Why did this push pull me towards myself?

4 Why not sooner?

5 It's funny how found I thought I was with you. I was actually more lost than ever. I was not the quiet, polite, sweet girl. I was never boring. And I never plan to be. Today I am, and will forever be, me. In all ways, with regards to all hidden attributes. I am no longer seeking days to be the perfect girl for you. She is out there somewhere, and you will find her. She will not be anything like me, but she will be beautiful in her own way. Hopefully she is found, and hopefully she finds the golden heart in you. If it doesn't work out, ask yourself: Was I last to push? Please do not try to change her.

6 In the unfortunate event that you realize I am finally moving on and seeing someone new: I can't think of any beneficial words for you. Hopefully you can find happiness in your soul to give to me. I don't know if we'll last "forever," if I will lose myself in him, or even if I will fall in love with him. All I know is that I am finally able to stand alone and call myself beautiful. He seeks the same beauty from the world as I do. I don't know where I'll be in 10 years, but I know that I have a passion, and I know that he does, too. We both may have stumbled upon each other's lives to just ignite growth, just like our relationship.

7 You will never be referred to as my "ex-boyfriend." You've gotten under my skin, broken my virginity seals, and sewed me back together. Yes, I was broken a year ago. Yes, I was still lost while with you. Yes, you pieced me together. And I am eternally grateful.

8 You are the only person I have trusted enough to help me overcome my rape.

9 I wish you the best of luck throughout the rest of your journeys. Do not be afraid to live. You've only been existing, and that's worried me.

10 Look at yourself in a different perspective. Stand from afar and look. Ask yourself: what am I doing? WHY? But most importantly, ask who is watching you.


From a past lover

day 65

she told me:

IWONDERHOW

ITFEELS

TOBELOVED

BYYOU

i wander dirt paths

thinking,

searching for what you feel.

i opened my eyes, love

but i can only smell

freshly buried

wanderlust.

things have suffocated

between us

deeply dug.

if you wander deep enough

your cause is stitched to me

we have become one

in the most numerous ways

day 64

Please don't call me morbid-

I think I discovered what love is today.

I saw her new hair.

She swept it to the side

as I stood here sweeping leaves off their feet

they are dying

and dying to fall in love

Is that how love really feels?

Each cracking in their spines

I love the way they bend so easily for me

Whisper cold words

I hear that

       cr

    cr

cr

           crackling

in their voices

They are giggling together

Nervously.

but I know a shy girl's laughter.

They are dying to be with me

I plucked them from their homes

One

by one

today she dyed her hair red

I pushed off her the swingset in the fourth grade

her knees bled so bloody beautifully

I swear

I think I discovered what love is today

She is so bloody beautiful

Please don't call me morbid-

I think I discovered what love is today.

I saw her new hair.

Sweeping red dye through strands of her own DNA

I kept all her dying words tightly packaged in colored bottles

I would keep them to feel like her

Feel her laughing nervously

Keep remembering the sound of that

cr 

 cr

  cr

             crackling

She swept me off my feet

I swept her red dye off my feet.

My soles weren't bleeding.

She was bloody beautiful

I think I discovered what love is today.

day 63

Ode to the keeper of my soul:

We sit on lawn chairs on city side walks
Clouds scaring away the sunshine
They form shapes that I've never thought of.

I'm starting to believe that the sky isn't wide enough for our dreams.

We hold them with pot holder hands

They are freshly brewed 

straight from our own ambitions.

I won't promise to build my dreams around you,

but to build my dreams with you.

You are honey comb home to seeking adventurers

My soul is safe in your thoughts

I am carrying the troubles of womanhood in small tote bag backpacks

These minuscule problems are just back blemishes

Birth marks that I will carry with you forever

we will get through them pinky intertwined with pinky

These moments are too sacred to hold with empty palms

day 62

I don't understand why your ego is so big.

You're such a shitty person.

every ounce of my being will willingly shake the hand that

makes up every ounce of your being

but I will always have the feeling

to shake every fiber of your being into sanity.

you drive me insane.

this poem will end before the cells in your brain

figure out where this message is going.

day 61

haiku:

life is freaking sweet

i love good vibes and good friends

please, dont just exist

live.

day 60

seeking:

a cure

please...

day 59

Open letter to THE COOLEST CAT ON EARTH

I dont know when you'll ever read this

or hear this

but just now know that I love you.

I love you to every ounce of paint used to paint these walls.

Theyarebarricadingusinside

but we are  s t a n d i n g  by t o g e t h e r

and staying together sounds awfully...
warm.

You feel like a family's first Christmas.

Keep me tightly wrapped in your mistletoe arms.

Your soul
....well...your soul is kissing me

Yes. That is how much I love you.

 I love you to the ground six feet deep

You are almost as tall as the roots of kissing trees

but maybe one day I'll prove to you adventurous

and we can climb and kiss in trees.

with you

the limit will never exist.

Even if the sky breaks

and shoots out meteorites

because I've never heard mediocre sound so right.

Our love may not be the best

but it will become the best.

When only the stars and the Milky Way are visible

and the sun comes crashing down

and I am mid kiss with you

I will happily say that THINGS...
well THINGS ARE GETTING HOT NOW

and hot damn!

I love you to the fifth light year and back

because five is bigger than four

and I want to love you more than forever.

I love you from Bm7 to A#m7

in that order
and it may not sound that pretty

but your voice  is a  family's first Christmas carol.

I sure as hell wouldn't be caught singing in public

but hey

I love you to the end of my soul's singing career!!

day 58

My eyes are

silver surfers on empty moon homes.

We are weightless

but filled with galaxies

the both of us only imagined existed.

day 57

When people describe me, they always include something about how I'm so positive about love, and how I never let love bring me down. How I'm so hopeful. How I never give up on love.

I seek love in the form of words.

pictures that I can take with my eyelashes,

sweet nectar feelings
pollen swollen eyes

I mistake it all for love.

Heart breaks sound like the thumps of rain forests
falling for each other in the depths of lost ruins.

Being broken is swallowing melted metal

while being in a freezer that only freezes your appetite.

Sometimes the darkness of love eats away at my butterfly cage

and there are times when I can't stomach disappointment.

I've broken enough hearts to build five new ones.

But that would be selfish.
What would I do with five hearts?
I only need one.
We only need one.
It breaks, it boils, it freezes over
but it's never lost.

It's magical,

this whole love crap.

day 56

She's so cute

I want to hug her

            and hold her

     and kiss her on the face

Last night
I told her that I'm not leaving:

It's 11pm and it's cold outside.

It's not quite December

and November is nowhere near.


Your face makes me believe in 
February 14th.

She chuckled
Her cheeks became as rosy red
as Santa Claus is believable.
But it's not Christmas yet, sweetheart.
Yet.

day 55

Autumn #17

1

I've watched the moon turn into suns

and sons into happy gentlemen

As long as I can remain weightless,

the pull of tides will dance towards me

2

The cicadas will always sing my brother's name

Winter is approaching

I don't know where the bees go when it gets cold

but I will never forget our childhood mockeries

They sing to me lullabies that tell stories of clocks,

melting into icicles

Time freezes, yall

And the mockingbird will rest in peace tonight

3

Stories finish

Sometimes happy, most of the time broken

I've braced myself for the fifth chapter of every book

That is when the paper cuts grow deeper

My hands have become vines attached to words

There is always a hello behind a heartbreak

4

Silence isn't real

I can't fall asleep in sound proof basements

My dreams never fail to keep me awake

5

I've felt colder winters on summer loving nights

Stop and think, love

It may not be cold outside

People give up warmth for lust in exchange of happiness

Now tell me, how long can you really see yourself holding my hand?

I'm starting to grow warm in my own skin

6

If I am able to speak this peace,

then I have found a home

If you are able to hear this peace,

then I am welcoming you with open arms

7

My wants are pulling me left

and my needs are pulling me right

I don't know where I'll end up in 10 years

but I'll sleep soundly in sound proof basements with the knowledge

that my dreams have pulled me forward

8

Dreams exist when happy gentlemen love their sons

and when suns turn into moons

Wishes sink to the bottom of broken ocean floors

but you can pull tides in your direction with just a hint of passion

9

Id love to watch someone fall in love 

and feel their souls immerse in beach tears

Silence is the stinging of sea salt on naive eyes

I now see that birds fly South when love freezes over,

but the bees drown themselves in cicada cries

A love lost will grow like vines onto my lungs

This is done for the day I become completely weightless

and discover that I can still breathe after catching paper cuts

10

It takes 17 years for a cicada to shed its skin and sing

Well tonight

I am 18

and I've found a home in words

day 54

this is the face of a writer

a persuasive type

size 12 times new roman

newly wed bride to a happy heart

this is the face of a daughter

spreading heartbreak like the jam on kindergarten sandwiches

and photocopy smiles of my mothers

this is the face of a musician

lips used to kiss away sweet bliss

i'll say goodbye willingly

as long as there is breath

i will be okay

this is the face of a best friend

favorites exist in my world

and my best friend's universe too

its proven that there can be two suns on one planet

she is the earth

and i am the ocean

together we will build confidence

this is the face of a stranger

has a stranger ever made you feel at home?

home is a strange word sometimes

this is the face of someone who cannot be defined

day 53

open letter to lc:

1

do not bite the hand that feeds you-

you feed me the faith I need 

to get through my daily obstacles

I will never put clenched teeth

to clenched fists

with you,

I am open to dream

2

gold-

new friends are bronze medals

dusted replicas of golden futures

you will always be my golden girl

holding up sun rays

with fingertips just to keep us warm

3

there is always enough time-

we share fresh secrets like fresh dandelions

picked off strands of grown grass

here we lay and exchange mindsets

filling each other in with more oxygen

and breathing in old carbon dioxide

i am able to breathe with you

4

seven years-

this sisterhood is .34 seconds away from me

i feel your comfort during the farthest of distances

wherever we both rest our heads at night

you will be the first thing i think of

when i wake up

5-

i don't need to fall in love

to know what true love is

6

sisterhood

day 52

welcome back

overheating lap books

and horrible sleeping patterns

homework close to finished

but not even close to started

being

           lazy

   at

        its

            finest

day 51

sleepy eyelids get heavy too quickly

come dance in dreams with us

we will make everything make sense
again

day 50

50 miles away

I hear your heart, gorgeous,

beating with each eye blinks

each lash curls

"love"

I hear your blue mascara

screaming sobbing yelling

"come back to me"

you are singing twice as hard for me

holding whole notes twice as long.

I miss holding you in my lungs

inhaling your blank heartaches,

but I am here love

with nothing left to offer.

hands dry from shuffling lust coupons

there are no more kisses left to send

just surprise packages of chapped lips

and boxes of lip balm

The wind here is so strong sometimes

it blows your voice 50 miles away from here

in the opposite direction

love

you are North East

but your pulse travels 50 miles East West

how far do our postcards have to travel

to tell you how long its been since I've last seen you?

don't become a memory.

I choose to forget too easily

and I forget to want to remember

I wander 50 miles North East

on days where I wonder where you are

you are lost love

like faded ink on washed up jean receipts

you were once held at value to me

but it's been 30 days since we've last kissed

and I don't know love

\you have been wiped off the face of these teary eyelids

believe me when I say I chose to forget

I can only stare for so long

until I forget to remember who you are to me.

day 49

EVERYTHINGISMOVINGWAYTOOFAST

I want to grab time with my fingers

feel every curve on its tiny body

Let's make time to know I'm interested
in spending nights and making days

shoulder cries and cheek kisses

just don't go

day 48

For sale:

negative energy.

Free.

day 47

Seeking:

a gently used glass bottle

to hold all this power in

or maybe

to just collect our tears

remind us that these elements will mix together

and there are more friendship atoms than saline

we cry

we weep alone

but sweep teardrops together

double knotted.

We've been linked by invisible laces since birth

crossed bows at different intervals

and tied together til the end of time

our friendship is the aftermath of broken glass

yes

eventually we will all shatter

but we will blow into the wind

like precious beach sand during summer wind storms

cause eyes to tear up

it's your choice to let go

but it's not fair to hold it all in

feel free to share your

dreams

fears

wants

because I am

Seeking:

a gently used glass bottle

to hold all this friendship in

we can watch the mixed elements of ourselves

swim freely in our sand memories

or sit and watch time pass

when our ribbon souls are tired

so friends

please remember

that yes

eventually we will all shatter

because we are fragile gently used glass bottles

but we contain so much love

packaged with strong souls

we will blow into the wind

but we will never run too far

from our bonds.

day 46

Let's say the sky is falling.

Do you know where your heart is?

Are your thoughts atop your shoulders?

or did your shoulders run away in the night?

Do you remember your last nightmare?

Where is the girl of your dreams?

Is she by your side?

Or did you leave her in your fantasy utopia?

day 45

HELLO senior year

hello nine dollar eyeliner

because it's waterproof

and smudgeproof

and really, really dark

hello looking insanely tired

like praying mantis eyes

running a five hour decathlon

HELLO

running on caffeine

or at least, just wishing to be

because hot coffee

during a cold CADD class

sounds

so

freaking

pleasing.

hello overly priced lunches

especially ones I can't eat

since no one seems to think about the

pescetarians

the vegetarians

the anything but meat eating eaters

hello wanting to do homework

but not

because i'm a lazy person

hello having to worry about my future

hello

senior year

ive only known you for 4 days

but damn

you are annoying!

bye

day 44

Throw a twig on a river front

watch it wander.

It may seem lost now,

but stick around.

It will soak up the sea,

fill its glass of hope to the brim

with a seashell phone call

and a beach warm tear.

Her body swam through air

breathlessly 

Tell me what you know about breath release

and I'll reply

you know nothing.

Watch her dance

spot sweat trickling down toned smiles

she is glistening.

like sunsets reflecting off rainstorms

It is only gold from here.

She is an ocean

She carries the deepest, darkest secrets

she knows your fear of drowning

come sit with her

on beach sand floor mats

admire the blues you feel

how deep did your soul dig around her?

Build her a moat

protect her

She will never let you drown.

Rest in beats, Alda.

day 43

Her shoulder blades remain

sharp and defined.

Bone structures sketch high definition pixels of wings.

She is an angel

and it is her time to fly.

R.I.P. Alda L. Phung

In memory of a beautiful girl

day 42

(jasper som is so beautiful in so many ways.

we've been friends since the beginning of time.

he deserves an appreciation haiku,

because we've both seen each other

grow into the people we are today.

without you sweetheart,

i wouldn't have eyewitness proof

of how tremendous my growth has been.

you impact my life.

this day is for you.)

this is magic hands

you are like magic perfume

my partner in crime

lovely

day 41

Napkin poetry vol 1:

I wonder what everyone

else is thinking.

There are 3 million

brains and half

empty minds with

70 hundred

thoughts.

The world is so

HUGE.

My problems are

minuscule napkin

threads.

day 40

NO NAME STATION 6

all aboard

complimentary shots of pity drinks

and lighters for your death sticks

cyanide in your coffee

we know you are apathetic today

we will even up the dosage of narcissism if you ask

your wish

is our command

there are ten stops today

but we cut them to one

destination:

anywhere, but here.

because we know

every place you go is bland

is gray

is boring

is filled with too many people

cockroach infestations of your mind

they are being born in your thoughts

and of course

there are four laboratories

with scented toiletries

two washrooms at each end of the tram

we equipped the mirrors with instant self indulgence

you should feel like the chocolate

you kill yourself over

thank you for joining us today

we are on hands and feet to serve you

please 

              please

                                  please,

care about yourself more than us

spit on us

degrade us

anything to make you feel better.

because after all,

caring for only one soul

being your own

is much more important

than caring for others.

day 39

seeking:

eyes that don't smudge paint
and a cure for ear pains

we don't want to hear it anymore