grass stains under my fingernails

coconut rings beneath my eyes

snake skin trails across my collarbone

softest lips like fireflies

rain wood,

red scaled skin

brandy snap collar

with iceberg limbs

.

tastes like sandpaper .

fold me up a million different ways

and i'll always face the sun

like fire

that's what you come here for ,

that's why they made me .

tripping over my own feet

a

thousand eyeless rattlesnakes

simmering

under your skin and through your veins .

traded my skull for a

paper eagle , with wings of silk .

spilled mulled wine on

its feathers .

stained it all pink

like fog .

tore it up and swallowed the ashes .

woke up

only to dream it all over again ,

maybe I have been here before

walking on wooden ladders,

and climbing the moon

perhaps Jupiter was my other home,

maybe I have been here before

sailing on ice cubes

in the tallest glass of life

perhaps, stardust powdered both my skin

and my heart

invisible tapestry of constellations

in the shapes of fallen suns

reflecting of my eyes

maybe I was made of rain dew

and lemon-drops,

my soul

colored with pastels

and flirtatious butterfly smiles,

perhaps, me and the darkness were good friends

lights like summer braids

woven into my hair,

and mixing with navy-blue ash

maybe I have been here before

and you whispered

my name so well,

you called me love

and climbed the moon

with me

The mist shrouded the mountain like a snake that is about to squeeze its prey

At this place, far away from human civilization, I found my nirvana—

fresh air, fresh view, and fresh climb

Trees stretched their fingers towards the azure sky while bees and flies

circled around their trunks, always searching for something,

maybe blossoms that never grew on the branches

I too, am searching for something...

Peace and serenity

Darting around in circles, the swallows performed gymnastics as they rushed upwards, plunged down in neat swoops, and then spiraled into the air

Grey-headed bullfinches sat unperturbedly on flowering bushes and fruit-laden trees

as rain lightly licked their feathers

A bird hopped on its feet and looked at me with curious, black eyes

I stood there, unmoving

A straw-thatched house perched on a grassy slope, its door ajar as if inviting me in From the west, a puff of wind lightly tingled the straw on the roof and dipped its fingers in the sluggish river below

Sheltered by lush plants and friendly animals, I even forgot that this was a tourist site—it was a comfortable home for me

However, my reverie was broken when my mother

and some crazy monkeys stepped in my way

“Smile!” my mother yelled to me as she snapped a picture

of me gaping at the mountain

“Oh mom, you broke the silence!” I complained

“We’re going down the mountain anyway,” she replied

As I descended, I took one last look at the startling Giotto-blue sky

and the swallows that dotted it

But before my we reached the bottom, several monkeys blocked the way

One monkey grabbed my leg and hugged it as if it were a precious piece of banana

Another monkey approached and reached for my floral scarf

I was aware that Mom was probably saving this memory inside her camera

As I detangled out of the monkeys’ reaches, I realized that

I was actually enjoying their presence—

that was until one jumped on my back and tried to rip my hair out

And I also realized that my water bottle in my backpack was gone

As I veered off into the craziness that represents my world,

I stole a moment to just breathe,

took in the magnificent view,

and found peace to take with me

But even with the flowers, trees, and other parts of nature

that I feverishly love so much,

from the safe haven of my backyard to the green spaces of the park,

I felt at peace on this mountain

I rested on the rocky slope overlooking the mountain,

able to gaze out much farther and stand much taller than I typically can

I enjoyed the rough climb upwards because at the apex

I could survey what looked like the whole world

On that mountain, I realized that what captured my heart about the climb is that once I reached my destination, I became part of Nature—

I was in the clouds,

the river flowing below,

the ghostly mist,

the twittering birds,

and the playful monkeys

I immerse myself in the sun

swallowing gold

within tattered lungs

gravity no more than a delicate red string

in a child's

soft chubby hands ,

my body lifts and pivots in a boundless spell

swirling somersaults

on the edge of the light

cutting air between oxygen and lost time .

I am something yet unsaid

lifetimes

of dying stars

fireworks waiting to be lit

I immerse myself in the sun

I swallow myself up

starting creation at day one .

reinventing structural walls

the blueprints

to my soul

I feel trapped in a painting, unable to wiggle

even a little.

It happened when I lost my identity two days ago

after never listening to myself and my own desires.

Always bending to others' persuasion

always soaking in everything like a sponge.

Then a stranger entered into my body.

My eyes has no fire, my face is colorless,

my hands remain motionless,

my heart swings to a stop,

and I am always looking

in that direction.

Call me mad if you wish, but life's events ebb in and ebb out,

never affecting me

trapped in that still

pose

and always wearing that expression of boredom

and vacancy.

I long to go to the outside world,

where Mother's homemade apricot pies await me.

Where there's the constant struggle of school, work, and relationships.

Where I can be drunk in the perfume of wisterias and lilies.

Where I can actually appreciate art from an outsider's perspective.

Where I can at least make faces and not stare dumbly into space,

waiting

for others to interpret my feelings.

Clank!

Now I am being shipped off to another place...

A laundry room perhaps?

Or a patio?

Or a bathroom?

Or a dentist's office?

Or another garage?

Or worse...a closet?

Either way, I am still

trapped.

I write myself into a ball of messy things

neurons entangled into static

electric things

lightning-bolt in a jar,

machinery trapped in a circulating mind

c o n s t a n t l y beating

moving

processing,

nylon threads between soft tissue

acrylic thoughts

spread against spiraling notions

on repeat, they play

on repeat, they breathe

in these heavy bones of mine,

casting a net between hopeless ribs

ivory build,

and tainted rust

take a needle

and construct breaths from a woolen yarn

two strokes up

and three pulls down,

spider's web sewn into lungs

eyelashes covered in silver silk,

fingertips sticking

with the overused patterns of breathing

beauty, chaos

destruction and rebuild

all connected into one

inhaling stardust

and spitting out moss,

trying to balance out the universe's arms

building me into something

I have yet to become

continuously counting

ancient bees

their buzzing

their whispers

until sleep finds me, soothing my winter lungs

and the summer heart,

making it easier to inhale the stardust

and exhale moss

it's always so l o u d in here

in this head

in this chest

even when so perfectly still

___

this colour of grey and something else

something else that feels entirely like loneliness

a eternity of a drop

and yet is something soft and warm too

like a soft bruise that’s tender to the touch

but not yet healed enough

not yet healed enough

& so you feel the keening hurt

when you press your hand to it

even oh so

gently

another morning

and another

and another

never ending