Common Conditions

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These are
the conditions
of a confused
human heart.

You have to listen well,
or else the wind will pull
these wishes away like
wild dandelions and
withering daisies.

There are different
parts of the soul.

When a young heart loves,
expect no brokenness.

She will be filled
with light,
do not pollute her
with darkness.

Violence and rage
are the children
of darkness, beware.

Sometimes,
they do not
understand.

Innocence craves, wonders, wanders.
This is the first part of a soul.

Dream before
the day begins,
and nourish
the rhythm
within.

The sky is a better world
upside-down.
Avoid
looking
up.

Lust moves, embraces, evolves.
This is what follows.

Marvel at the
magnificence
of this mortal
heart.

Humans are lost rivers,
connected by the songs
that they play when all
the world is asleep.

Do not give
your soul away,
it is graver than
taking your own
life away from others.

Take words of
hatred for granted.
Hatred is the spark
that will ruin our race.

Cry a sky,
laugh a symphony.

Emotions are
therapy from
the skeleton lifestyle
that is demanded by
the rest of the world.

Sometimes, a heart
will feel immortal.
It is not.

Misery swims, sinks, conquers.
This is the next portion of human soul.

Although your paths
may not always follow
one another, you have
angels who love you.

The worst thing
can sometimes be
the best thing.

What demons
do not comprehend
is that love is far stronger
than pain and heartbreak.

Take whatever you need
and hold everything you want,
and run far, far away.

Uncommonly,
things that fall
apart can be made
into godly art.

Sounds of the restless night
is better felt half awake.

Stillness arises, recovers, redeems.
This is the final part of a soul.

The oceans and the clouds
after breaking from your shell
will be a ruin, be ready.

Living hurts, loving is pain,
yet to feel something is better
than to feel nothing all together.

Upon further notice,
the light will come back.

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The Tragedy of Art

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It’s just that
you can’t make art
smiling.

Behind your eyelids
are oceans of mysteries.

Let me paint
your dismembered anatomy.

The rebellion of society
and restrictions of freedom
are almost twins;
can you tell
them apart?

Here is my
a b s t r a c t
heart,
take it
with care.

Take my walls apart,
and seek the color within.

The thing about art
is that it is usually
misunderstood.

Here, here,
lies the pieces
of my fragmented
affections.

Your poetry
is falling apart.

The things about good art
is that you have to be
broken apart
to make a masterpiece.

You play my heartbeat
like the off-key drum
buried within my
frozen soul.

Tell me the story
of how girls fall in love
with girls,
and how boys fall in love
with boys.

I make a
fool of myself
whenever I try
to impress you.

Art is an expression
of love, it holds no bounds.

If you were the moon,
and I were the sun,
I will give you all the light
that burns within my veins
and so much more.

I feel
extremely
cheap.

I can paint all the stars
and all the worlds in the sky,
but I cannot fathom my passion
towards you.

Pardon me.
For whatever art
truly is, I can never express
even if I had all the words
of all the languages at my
disposal.

There are different
dimensions within
an artist’s soul.

  Take me to
the new world.

Why am I
pleased with
my own misery?

Let the sound of
shattering souls
lull me to my dreams.

Art is not
limited
to the senses.

Music is one of the
most powerful things
that surround human existence.

May you be blind,
or deaf, or poor or weak,
the world will still be yours.

The only disability in expression
is that a single human life
is not enough to feel.

We are the figments
of our own imagination.

The world was wide
enough for just so many
broken souls that it don’t
feel so broken anymore.

It’s just that you have to accept
that happiness is not permanent,
but remember that neither is misery.

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I Darkness, You Light

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My dearest.
My biggest fear
is that you’ll hear this
too late, full of hate and loss,
a cost of my own misery, a victory
of my devils, dagger on your chest heavily,
a break in your heart steadily, and a cry from
your lungs drearily. My dearest, you don’t deserve
me, I’m an atrocity, my anatomy a strange city for a lost
soul, as black as coal, never once whole, gone before the wind
as even come. My dearest, be gone. You do not deserve any of this.

My darling.
You are everything
I have ever loved, above
life, above hope. You are my
steady rope that holds me still,
until I can stand no more, my heart a sea
that will forever pour into yours, and of course,
you are my passion to life, a living light that my darkness
cannot fight, a voice telling me all will be alright. You are my hope,
above life and above love. My darling, you are my everything.

My greatest love.
We are not right for
one another, I darkness, and
you light. I cannot sleep without
thinking, I cannot blink without recalling
the first time you had me falling, the pull of gravity
nearly bringing me to sanity. You will turn ill in my arms,
your warmth will fade in my heavy shade, and I will cause you
sorrow. Please, live tomorrow. If anything, for me. You’ll see someday
that I had to do this. My greatest love, you are above me.

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My Dear Villains

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Scream or die.
Scream or die.
Villains, this is what
you have done to me,
the epitome of misery,
a child lost in unseen hope,
desolation in the atmosphere,
gasping for light in the thick heaviness
that is weighed atop my chest. Villains, what
have you done to me? What is the reason for my
existence? I am merely a burden, a burner of time,
a waste of space, a disgrace to the human race of which
I am classified in. Why am I still here, can you answer me?

Scream or die.
Scream or die.
Villains, you have to
know that this sorrow
within me questions my
tomorrow, fogging any hope
that might make me want to continue.
Villains, you have to know that if slitting
my own throat would not be named a mortal sin,
I would have already done it long before you could
have found out about my misery. You have to help me
find a way to keep living like this, to stop me from hurting
myself in any way I possibly can. You have to stop. Simply stop.

Scream or die.
Scream or die.
Villains, I think this is
where I say my goodbye,
finally. I don’t think I have any
further reason to shout the whereabouts
of my sadness, my throat is sore, my tongue
is dry. I cannot scream anymore, I can merely
whisper my farewell. Villains, this is the part when
I give up my heart to the darkness and swim down, deeper
to where I truly belong. This is it. This is when I leave, and finally, die.

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Familiar Strangers

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Am I lucky
to have found you?

We nearly kissed,
and then I caught
myself dreaming;
it was an almost death.

Your eyes are
oceans I yet
have to dive
into.

I’ll be here patiently
waiting for you to
come back, and
then not at all.

Some of the birds soar
towards the other end
of the horizon. I yet
have to strengthen
my wings.

You are a journal
I have written on,
once and long ago,
familiar, strange, mine.

I won’t do what
you tell me,
I can’t love
myself before
I love you.

Some things
just don’t work that way.

Give back the sky,
give back the trees,
and I’ll give back
your heart.

I would if I could,
I would never let you leave
if I could hold you close.

It’s hard to see
the beauty of
things sometimes.

Pleased to make
your acquaintance.

You are not
my lover,
you are not
my friend.
You’re not.

It’s easier to
burn the ice
than freeze the
moments between.

I can’t just forget
about you again.

Have me met?

Your skin feels
like the sun in darkness.

Maybe we were
soulmates in another
lifetime, and maybe
today, we’re just strangers.

Do you believe in
luck, or love?

Home is where
you feel the warmth
and comfort of the
most mundane things.

Do we have
to say goodbye?

I can’t imagine what it’s like
without you,
and yet I don’t recall what it’s like
to be with you.

Come home
and get lost
in my love.

I need you more than
you could possibly figure out.

You are every breath I have taken in,
every tear I have shed,
every beat in my heart.

Love is when
you don’t know
what exactly is
going on, but
everything feels
perfect anyway.

In other words,
we were created
from the same suns,
and have the same stardust
in our rotten, human hearts.

Take me with you.

Something about all of this
is wretched, like it isn’t
supposed to be.

Let’s run away
together.

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A Stolen Soul

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I cannot function
when I have been
stripped of my soul.

All I can think of
are silver birds and
golden ferns, and how,
for once in my existence,
I was alive.

The wind is cold,
and my heart is warm.

This tomorrow is of
perfect harmony.

Take me back.

Something has been
stolen from me,
and I can’t get it back.

I used to be made of
aesthetic daydreams
and hopeful thoughts.

Deep within the pit
of my insides lies the
fuel of which my life
depends on, buried,
inaccessible.

I never thought
I could find love
in the most mundane
moments.

Here we are,
alive and real,
broken and longing.

Walking on sand felt
like exploring the sky,
and on the coastline
I had found my heaven.

It felt like a movie.
The happiness and heartbreak
was the substance of fiction.

My dreams mess me up.

Eyes shut and lungs full,
I should be with you and
not in this dusty, crowded city.

What lies within me now?
My soul is gone, and lost
forever; although I know
it has found home in you.

I don’t know if
I can be okay anymore.

I was so used to being different.
Now that I’m home, same is
irrelevant.

My thoughts are collateral,
my thoughts are wandering,
my thoughts are difficult.
Can you tell?

Can you promise me
to never promise to
love me ever again?

Will these senseless
thoughts ever make
sense again?

I am alarmed at
the amount of tears
that fall from my eyes.

I told myself that
I won’t cry, but
here I am.

What is home?

Lost.
I want to get lost again.

Over the horizon,
there is a body of
a being, once whole
but fragmented all together.

It was so cold that
I burned with passion.
And here, the scorching
atmosphere makes me
shiver.

Perfect is
surrealism.

If there’s anything harder
than saying goodbye to yesterday,
it’s facing tomorrow without you.

I can’t.

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Falling

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I want to
fall asleep,
and never
stop falling.

The worst and best things
happen in my dreams.

I saw you,
whoever you are,
and you didn’t look
through me like the
others did.

Write me a story
of how the helpless
girl fell in love after
she fell asleep.

The biggest tragedy
of all is the tragic tale
of how you don’t exist.

You let me hold your hand,
you let me mend you back.
You let me, and I broke because of it.

I keep on finding love
when I dream.

Here is a theory;
you are the same person
in different forms who
loves me in different ways
in different dreams.

Can a soul be caged in
another soul, and never set free?

I do believe that somehow,
you are real and I yet have
to find out where you are.

Maybe my dreams are
realities trapped in a
rotting human body.

Do souls grow old?

I can’t accept that
I miss kissing someone
of my unconscious desires.

We listened to music
together in one of them.

You let me dance
in your arms, and
I felt whole.

I can’t remember what
songs were playing,
all I know is that they
were old and romantic,
and that you promised
to grow old with me in
the most romantic way.

How can you hurt me
without hurting me at all?

You looked like…
like someone I had
given my heart to.

I never forget what
it felt like when our
skins would collide.

You took my
lungs into
another dimension,
and I was breathing hope.

The anatomy of
my dreams are made
of lost longings and
found forevers.

I’m afraid of the
thoughts in my brain.

It was rare for me to
feel reckless and safe
at the same time, but
somehow you made it work.

I never want
to wake up.

I hope that this
never comes to an
end, that we come
together and never
fall apart.

Except I was falling,
and eventually,
I had to stop.

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