Dreamless

How long has it been, since I last dreamed?
I couldn't remember,

Sunday morning, I sat quietly in the garden that hasn't been trimmed or pampered for two summers, and watched the autumn sunlight lit up the city, where no one was awake.
There was only birds and cats, and me,
Who wonder if it I shall ever dream again.

It bothers me, the fact that I lost the ability to dream (or remembering dreams once reality wakes me).
I took another sip of apple cinnamon juice that was made from powder, and sink myself in its warm scent.
Ah, How I miss the dreams...

where glass-made staircase suspend in the middle of the sky,
where ladybugs where giant friends that fly you across,
where bare feet chases one other playfully around the endless lavender fields,
where that special prince appears constantly, unexpectedly.
and where paper planes carry you through the gently flowing moon river,
where moon smiles and flower sings.

Even the nightmares!
where I was chased by monsters with no face,
where I had to hide from places to places to avoid the giants with smelly fur,
where hills and mountains and trees was shriveled and dark,
and where the creepiest castle stood alone in the center of a graveyard.
even those, I miss deeply.

They were what allowed me to escape into a world of my own,
seeing and exploring,
learning and experimenting,
but protected from reality.

Whether you wake up in horror, or in joy.
You knew, you went somewhere.
and they stay with you in most precious part of the heart.

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A maple leaf slowly settled on the table beside my cup.
and I realized that the saddest part of life,
was the Childhood that never seem to be long enough.

In less than five month, I would be eighteen.
and I would enter a stage of life, where reality really hits.


I close my eyes, and thought of Peter Pan and Alice.

Disaster Never Felt So Beautiful

It was a mistake that took you here.
A bad decision that haunted you as you walk along.
There was no sign, no prophesy that led you here.
but here you are, standing in the middle of nowhere, alone.
You wanted to scream,
You wanted to shout,
You wanted to weep,
but you know that was your decision.
so you were a man about it, and tough it out.

You stood at the top of a hill where everything was colder,
and air harder to breathe in.
and when you arrive at the edge of the disaster,
you saw the city.

Lying there like a dark crematorium,
with clouds of smoke hanging above.
You thought for a second, and you look around yourself.
Serene and untouched.
Then for a second, you see the sun shinning above you for the first time.
and look at the city below you once again.

It is burning now, the city.
it is on fire.

ashes couldn't reach you, so you stood still, watching.

A disaster never felt so beautiful.
And there you are, smiling to yourself.

Hotel Chevalier

Nameless Ex: Whatever happens in the end, I don't wanna lose you as my friend.
Jack: I promise, I will never be your friend. No matter what. Ever.

N.E: If we fuck, I'm gonna feel like shit tomorrow.
Jack: That's ok with me.

N.E: I love you. I never hurt you on purpose.
Jack: I don't care.

Repetitiveness

Usually causes me discomfort.

Lolita

Was it simply a sick and insurmountable desire for something innocent?

Or was it simply faith that made me believe true love does not fixate on age?

I could never distinguish the two.

I tired,

I failed.

For days and nights

My heart lives solitarily in a maze

And there was no one, to walk with me, through this daze.

I am sick

I am a lover

She was my savior.

They view me as a villain

But how could anyone resist?

The stainless and polish skin

The joyous and heavenly laughter

The smile that mends a broken heart in this crippled society

How could anyone resist?

I adore her innocence,

But the minute my hands laid upon her,

I knew it was dead and gone.

And one day,

As I sit in my old chair, watching my Lolita escape out of my sight

My heart was also dead and gone.

But it was then, I no longer have desire for any nymphets other than her.

And it was the day, when I saw her after plenty years,

pale and polluted with other man’s child,

That I realized,

No matter what,

I loved her.

But I almost killed her.

(p.s. for anyone who has completly no idead what this is about, Its a poem inspired by the book"Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov! IT'S ENCHANTING.)

Between the Sheets

 

Gosia Janik

Dawn was near, but she was still awake.
She was suffocating in her own restless mind.

She stares at the moon, and sank into the light.
Besiege by the cocktail dress from last night,
She kicked the lilac colored blanket away from herself,
knowing something is not right.

She cursed, and cursed, and cursed.
Finally, there came about a decision.

Slowly, she removed the dress, bottom-up. And
stripped away the laced brassiere, exposing her breasts in front of a muted night,
leaving only a pair of legs wrapped around by thin thigh-high stockings.

She took a deep breath, made sure the whole body was in the frame, and let the moon shine directly on her.

Nestled in her new found comfort, she closed her eyes,
letting the moans grew louder and louder.


No one was there to witness.
But believe it or not, magic was made happened,
For this girl is liberated out of her misery,
and could finally fall asleep peacefully between the sheets.

we chase the night

We hear the subtle drums pounding away at midnight.
It was the sound of the opening to the parade. (our parade)

The palest mice appear into the alley, mediately contrasting the light and the dark.
But he didn't care so much, for he was on to something more worthwhile.
And that was the cheese, the cheese that he'd find tonight, and treasure back to his house to gnaw on.

He look up, and wave to his dark feathered and pumpkin eyed friend. The crow.
Soaring around the antique clock on 5th block, the crow was also onto something,
She was widowed and hungry. And in the endless and obscure sky, she search for something that fulfills her heart and body.

Quietly, the owl sits still on the branch directly facing a house.
He was the greatest disguise.
Under his tranquil expression, lies a desire for preys.
The robes around him covered him quite will, making the tree and him almost inseparable.
But it was the hooting that gave him away. So he sits quietly, active and not active.

we are the darkest creatures in this town, abhorred by humans.
but we are also the animals, with behaviors adapted
by the humans.

So finally,
What we all have in common,
was that every now and then,


we chase the night.
　

Friend is a 4 letter word

I sit alone in Downtown,
watching different faces, carrying different emotions, sliding through streets.
Some with family, some with lover, and some with friends.

Slowly, I took another sip of the hot chocolate which was made fresh two hours ago,
and look idly into the lines and dots.
Thinking that any moment, I may be able to connect the dots, and be enlightened.

" Nothing is wrong, I just didn't like it too much " you said to me, sitting still in the passenger seat and turning your face away from mine. "why do you keep asking me?"

" I just felt something, you know? I mean, I'm not upset by you not liking the show, but I've been feeling something lately from you. I think we can talk about it, maybe it'd help" I said, keeping my eyes on the road and constantly checking the cars behind us.

You sighed, and said " Just drive. "

" But Georgia.. "

" JUST DRIVE! " you yelled, " What's wrong with you anyway. gosh. Stop this."


Feathered friends drew transparent lines across the sky hanging behind the artificial buildings.
The empty cup stares mockingly at me, so I put on my coat, and left the coffee shop.
It was then, when I walk pass the same store where we both used to spent hours surfing at the jewelry section at the end of the halls, that I felt the transient existence of our friendship.


Something brought us together.
United us like never before.
But that thing, that crucial thing,
was also the thing that parted us.

What do people do to a changing friendship?
Is there a way to stop the decay?
and if it is indeed stopped, how will one recover?
Was it necessary?


The sky is closing down it's blind now, and the wind blew harsh waves of coldness into the city blocks.
In this briskly autumn dawn, I long for an arm to hold on to.
But you've made the decision of moving on, choosing a different direction.
It's alright with me, just...
I hope you are wearing something warm. Because we both know the future ahead of us is a long road.
And I also hope, in this journey that I no longer can be in, you will be forever blessed.
This friendship of ours may be changed, but the definition I've had for you and I will be preserved, forever.

In this 4 letter word.
　
　

When life gives you lemon....

You make apple juice.

(Then sit back and watch the world try to figure out how you did it)

Monday Distance Love

Through the metals which enclosed millions of transferring electrons,
I could hear the rhythm of your breathing.

Gently, You soothed my soul into a mauve colored linen.
Softened, by the timbre of your voice.

I watched the rain slide down the transparent glass as I held the device close to my ear.
Monday afternoon was about to be swallow, and fallen leaves lapse through the autumn sky onto the cement street, silently, and seemingly reluctant.
It did little to effect me, for I was with you, through this device.

In this little room of mine, where lamps swept away the duskily filled environment, I hear of the sizzling sunshine in the Eastern Hemisphere and the shirts that are soaked with body sweat.
You talk of the beautiful sunshine, and I speak of the dimming autumn (here in Canada.)

I cooled down your torrid life, and you warmed up my dispirit world.
We were complements, in the opposites of the globe.

Connected, not only through technology,
but also, by heart.

The Big Lesson

Embarrassed, I sat alone at the edge of my bed and chuckled.
With tears as my company, I hide underneath my palms, and cry restlessly.

Alright, I admit it.
I am extremely forgetful, and really, I do deserved some sort of punishment for allowing myself to get away with it most of the time.
There should had been more cautiousness and carefulness flowing through me. But there wasn't.
so then, this act of forgetfulness, was finally penalized tonight.

As I realized, when getting off of the car, that my precious life-filled soul-filled "sketchbook" is absent from my hands, I froze.
Then on the way back to the restaurant where I had dinner, I was brazened that it would most likely be there.

And this, was the climax.
The part where I walked into the restaurant with such confidence, yet when the waitresses announce that there was no sketchbook.

My foolishness finally served me. Right.


I was to be sentence to live with this.
This silly mistake of not taking care of my belongings, and losing something both sentimental and valuable.

So I promise, in the coming future, this big lesson today, will act as a talisman and I shall always and forever to be cautious, and never forgetful.

(I promise.)
　
　

So I was on the phone with Ma...

Friday Night,
Mama said she wanted to open up a store.
She wanted to sell healthy beverages, and that only.
But I really think she should sell her vintage clothes instead,
for there wont be anymore space for them once she move (and it would be such a shame if she were to throw them out!), and the clothe were amazing, and still is!
Plus, one can still sell healthy beverages at the same time if they feel the need to do so.

The styles which came across my mind is something along the line of:
"Retro", "Chic", and high fashion "Modern".

Honestly, I am a big sucker for vintage clothing.
A good vintage store would be a Treasure Island for the stylish cools, and a temporary gateway from the usual boring repetitious world.

So hands down, I am in full support of this. Open the store already!

To Mama, everything still exists as an unknown uncertainty.
But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, and things that you are passionate for.
And after that, just go for it.

Life ain't predictable,
One will always have the power of now,
because only with it,
can our future be somewhat controlled.
　
　
So I got off the phone with Mama, realized it's 12 am and in less than 6 hours, I shall be up again.
Saturday would be here.
And I would be working.....

Sour Apple

Did you know that we are all apples?

I didn't know.
When you forced me to look into myself,
I found that there was actually something there.
You said that was the core.
I realized that it seldom thump,
and when it did, it felt as if it was being ripped out. Apart.
You said that was jealousy
So, I am a sour apple
Green and Jealous.
The hope that I could mature into a red one,
which most preferred (You preferred.),
seems more delusional than ever.
Still hanging onto the trunk where all the red ones had fallen off from.
I , a Sour Apple,
is turning cripple.
Dying, in my own sourness.
Eager, for maturity.

"All girls are Princesses"

If you never watch the movie, "A Little Princess" 1995, then you never lived. (or you totally just missed something super profound.)

All the fantasies and dreaminess in which my brain are now hard-wire to(sometimes/most of the times), happened to be influenced by this very movie.

I am stubborn in many ways, but I can be lovely.
Does that make me an princess?
Sure it does!

Miss Minchin: "Don't tell me you still fancy yourself a princess."

Sarah: "All girls are princesses."

Miss Minchin: "You are no longer a princess...anymore."

Sarah: " I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny, old attics; even if they dress in rags; even if they aren't pretty, or smart, or young. They're still princesses. All of us. Didn't your father ever tell you that? Didn't he?"

photos via unicorn diaries

Horses at Night

The vocabulary quiz today during English class was certainly.... not easy,
but thats done for now. (though I still can't believe I forgot what "Abdicate" meant)

Aside from that, I read a new short story today, called "Horses at Night" by Margaret Laurence. It was quite powerful, in a sense that the characters reflected how each of us perceive fear and reality.

Do we accept them, or do we repel away?
Do we escape reality, into our own dream?

Some words came into my head, a single line from a poem I had once heard.
I knew it referred to a lover who did not want the morning to come,
but to me it had another meaning, a different relevance.


Slowly, slowly, horses of the night ---


The night must move like this for him, slowly, all through the days and nights.
I could not know whether the land he journeyed through was inhabited by terrors,
the old monster-kings of the lake, or whether he had discovered at last
a way for himself to make the necessary dream perpetual...

The Ten reasons not to talk

You see, English is my second language.
Dark hair, dark eyed,
I am an inked question mark, among the seas of foreign alphabets.

anyways, so I came across this rather funny and legit post from Nicolasee.
Here it is!

The Ten reasons not to talk (or why you didn't talk)

1. you might be boring
2. they might not understand you
3. you might stumble on your words
4. they might not hear you so you end up talking to yourself
5. they might think you like them
6. you might offend them
7. you might strike a passionate topic and have to listen to them talk about rubbish
8. you might miss the bus
9. you might lose your voice
10. you might fall in love with them


...and they might not love you back!

An "Amélie" Life

Ever since I watched this movie 2 years ago, my life was changed forever.
It's an indescribable sense of bliss that one could ever feel towards this movie.

Realizing how beautiful life is, and how much wonder there is in every corner of this world, I cannot hold the sincere affection brimming out of my heart.

I felt as if I was given a new pair of eyes, having a brand new perspective that enables me to physically and emotionally feel the true happiness in life.

The beauty of an act of kindness,
and the trueness behind every honest gesture,
links us one by one, heart to heart.


No longer do I praise over fortune, fame, lust or plastic beauty.
I believe there are so much more to life than that,
and that is the life I chose to live,



An "Amélie" Life.

Vacant Heart

The door to my bedroom is always ajar.
and when morning comes, she comes in with tenderness.

I woke up,
surrounded by the sound of air, and a wall with endless blank.

Usually, the first few steps on the concrete are cold.
It gets better though, when I'm in the bathroom.

Breakfast are ready, I made them myself.
Scanning through pages of inked paper.
I yawned, "You want Breakfast, Honey?"

....

With no reply,

I realized that, this imaginary person I am speaking to (or I thought I was ),
no longer lingers in this very house.

What lingered and what remained,
was I.




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The first drop of dew in the garden, mark the beginning of a new day.
and this vacant heart, still lives.

waiting, on some some sort of return.