the pain recollects behind my eyes
and waste away;
frozen tears for somebody undeserving
of the extent
of intense emotions i puke out
for you.

i read poetry similar to mine
and feel the sharp of your memory
stick into places tender from
a heart i refused to touch
ever since you failed to fix
but succeeded in tearing it
into a project of your own;
lungs i have forgotten to care for
but merely fill with choked up
feelings clinging to smoke and

i intended to numb the bitter wounds
ripping apart with every breath
but the sickly cluster of your
shameless words and
everything else i swallowed
still burn me like
a rotten carcass.

there are still days when i ponder on
to this mess i built as
and figure out
no matter what i choose
i am still
already gone.

and so are you.

world records

there is a clamp in my head
tightening for what seemed like weeks
and will continue for remaining days
until i reach the second my heart and soul
turns one year old.

it feels like an egg cracking, these
unwanted, murky, irksome feelings
leaking through me
spilled and unable to fix
as the day edges closer
and closer
and closer
like reverse, a reverse effect back to
when i died and was reborn
as nothing; a blank paper, torn and crumpled.

one year ago.


feels like quite a while now,
many things i have forgotten beyond
that night
except the incidents that led me
to living this new, semi-unwanted life.


i partially enjoy it
the new lengths i push myself through
measuring how hard my cover is
and the lowest temperature of my heart;
the many times i can look at my arm
without crumbling.


i took a huge risk allowing the wounds
to be wiped clean
knowing from then on,
they will never heal, dirty as ever,
and will never heal
and i could no longer live the way i did
because i woke up the next morning
with no recognition of life
and its definitions.

i started from scratch
without a purpose or a scrape of hope
screaming for some incomprehensible need;
no one understands the language
of a newborn.

one year ago.


i am breaking my own world record by:

:testing my limits.

:raging multiple wars within myself.

it was always a war between peace of mind and pain,
but fighting for peace never really works, even in the news.

:lastly, having two birthdays to celebrate.

one for my life and
one for the loss of it.

the city is hollow

back to a coldness where
lights shine empty
and stars are replaced by the
clog of smoke
and empty air
where things remain choked
and there is no place for release

no wind to chill and
no trace of freedom
no space to breath
nowhere to claim eternity

i stare out at blocks of
man-made construction
material things
we can lose
scents that pass
and never linger
prodding like painful memories

it is a city of
no place for dreams and
no place for somebody
like me

Three Cigarettes

i get scared. my lungs
clog up
and i forget how to breath
for a second.

moments when i wake from
hiding the small of you
and your inflictions that taste
pretending i am finally

it all aches again
i forget to look at the time
because the date looks
and unexpected.
knowing everything is moving fast
whilst i am too slow
is no comfort,
reminding me again
of how i have forgotten
how to press play
after i had paused
at the scary part
to refrain from screaming.

it hurts to see new faces
replace what was once-
it hurts to see everything
but i.
me and my forever memories.

it was like somebody else
tried to move on for me,
branching out a whole new world
before my eyes
when i still had them shut,
to hide
to protect myself from
the accidental babies of my mind
that will never grow me
a new life.

big giants

it is a brittle and deep ache
injected in me, a feeling i
involuntarily succumb to
because of the many times i look up
towards the eternal and find
a blank stare returning my gaze.

nobody but i will comprehend
how much i have tried to perfect
the circle of all the hope i had in me;
they said circles are better shapes
because they are harder to break
but nobody ever told me
how hard it was to mend one
already cracked.

it is as if the whole world is
crumbling at my fingertips
and the disaster is too beautiful to fix
so i resolve to sitting back
and learning how to let it eat me up
without feeling the blow
when i hit rock bottom.

new and familiar

the feelings are unreal.

they taste like the past
and ache like a thousand years

i am trying to stay strong
but there is no strength in
tearing up at every glance
and every precious breath.

i hear time fleeing.


please stay.


there are things i wished i could've done
at a time when i was much stronger
than this
like hug you
and say you are the most
i have ever been given

and the fights were only lessons
to learn from.

but i am now at the peak of falling
and i
do not have the guts, i stutter
trying to say i care
and i really, really, really
myself for all the moments you spend alone
aching over my words
because i know how it feels
aching over yours.

i was, in your eyes,
as precious as my favourite home-made soup
you'd make when you had enough strength
but you are, in my eyes,
- though i may never dare
to tell you this -

like every breath you take
when you are sleeping soundly
because i am safe beside you


there are no more poems that make them
smile, no more words that
flow from my mind to exert
some sort of sweetness that show people
how happy i am
because i am not happy
as simple as that.

i am now at that stance where i
result to
drawing squares on my deodorant bottle
and making beautiful faces on brochures
with permanent markers
because the thoughts crowd in
until i have to find a way


i am frightened by those who
talk to their reflections
or the palm of their hands
certain scars they try to scare
because it reminds me too much
of a person living inside me.

i predict a death by lightning
because i am used to having things i find
most precious
kill me.

i try to push in the cutthroat
emotions that haunt the
messages my mother forgot to erase from her phone
sent between those who were
at a time
fighting to protect and
keep intact a girl who crumbled at the sides.

you do not need to believe in
timewarps and
magic machines to see a picture perfect
vision as clear as stark light
of what used to be.

one nightmare is all it takes
for the deepest memories to resurface.