🕸️
I’ve spent the whole morning looking for a lost key that would open all the doors. It was like waking up small cuts in the throat, like searching for the past and remembering the pain. Another thing crossed off the list, but was it worth coming back home? Will it help to bang your head against the doors?
What we do is shameful, it’s shameful to neglect what we have around
Walking back home, I unplugged myself and looked up at the sky. It was 8:34 PM and there were a few stars. I realized the trap - dispersion. I don’t know how long it’s been since I last looked up at the sky - usually, we gaze blankly down, the deepest point of a screen.
Jan 29, 2025
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i used to chase rainbows
walk a few blocks maybe
then turn around cause i always knew it was fruitless
now i do the same for sunsets
try to stay up for sunrises
i never succeeded but i always look back
i keep swinging and dreaming of the sun rise i never saw
all i have is the orange horizon that never finishes its downfall
i close my eyes and listen to the cicadas
i take a deep breath and ask god to change
but i open my eyes and the sun isn't set
hours after it was supposed to
my legs are tired but i wish to swing
my head hurts but i can breath
the car lights blind me and i hope they don't think of me
the bright fluorescent lights highlight my growing roots
not blonde but not entirely brown
dull and indecisive
so the next day, I walked further, I tried to see the sun for a better angle since I once again missed the rise
I seem to have walked quite too far, so the sky was blank, covered by trees and high skylines so I go back and turn around feeling the cars go by me almost hitting me each time, and I immediately regret that I didn't walk even further to see what was beyond the bend, maybe the trees would clear away and i’d finally see the set from a perfect angle
I hope one day I'd find myself back to a tall mountain Ridge where I could see the fall and theoretically the rise all by myself and nothing else in mind
but i didnt take advantage when i did have that perfect spot
Mar 30, 2025
🌅
In the morning, you’re dazed due to the impact of the soft sounds of the river. Just like a tune designed just for this moment, noises enter your ear and remain constant. It is your choice to walk away from it as when you start taking a few steps towards ‘escape’, the streams will not be able to reach you anymore.
Just stare at it and enjoy the peace for a minute. Enjoy the gentle warmth radiated from the big star above you, embrace the tickling breeze that kindly kisses your cheeks. As if it were a group of fairies, the luminous forms of glitter huddle together then fall apart by the motions of gravity. Against or willing, they carry out their moments independently and flow with time.
You close your eyes and for a second, life feels wonderful. It feels like you are living in its peak and there is no route for returning back into gloom. Take a few breaths in, decide to let loose and fall on your back without damage. Realize that it would be best for you to keep it sealed for a while and fall asleep.
When you finally wake up from the accidental spending of a few hours, your receptors do not detect much light from the scenery now. The Sun also decided to rest and gifted the Moon, introducing a variation to the glint.
Now, you feel calmer than ever. Nothing really matters, it’s only you and the dark, present in this living moment. The river still giggles, but you can’t really see its smiles anymore; the only motion you detect from it are the parts that rely on the Moon. After-all, the Moon doesn’t emit light by itself and is also dependent on the Sun’s attitude. However, the circle wouldn’t have been drawn and presented if it wasn’t for its existence so who are we to judge?
Jan 29, 2025
🍃
a couple months ago I'm out behind the gabled house with dregs of home still seeping through its edges, a sharp sort of newness ripping the seams of who I am & who I was, sweaty fingers slipping from between each other with the bloodied grasp of desperation - it is a spring day, and I am here again. the leaves are new and the blinking infant furled in the strands of my chest takes a breath and every time I trudge through these vine-ridden woods I feel her grubby hands trace the creases in my ribcage. there are ghosts here, the soulmate-friend across the ocean and I and the way we'd take axes to the already-fallen trees like our anger was spraying away with the bark and we were left with only breeze. there are the phantoms of our hands stuck in the mud, ripped leaves beneath our fingernails as we unclogged the flow of the creek and watched the water dig its trenches deeper, and now i'm watching it capture the light of a new year in my hometown alone. through the leaves and over the tinny chorus of water-on-rock I hear the echoes of a mother calling to her children in a game of hide-and-seek, her children laughing, the clamor of it like a memory captured on tape and played back. there is a hole here, radio waves rippling through years folded back and punched through, I a bystander to the reminiscence of a stranger years down the line when some part of that laughter will be lost. it is here. it is here now, in the backyard of a house I sometimes call home.
2h ago
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