Thankful Thankful

There is so much to say;

that..in the end...

so much is nothing.

Thus,

I shall bow my head

and simply

say.

Thank You.

For: 爸爸, 媽媽, 第,第, 姐姐, Amanda Dear, and my Hubby 

your sweet, dark eyelashes

I really shouldn't grumble so much. I feel like i deserve to go out, because of all the extra work that i put in; as well as my much improved grades this year. I've worked and worked and worked; and when the time's right...it's not. it's simply quite frustrating, really. i know i really shouldn't complain; that i mustn't err off the road to far...but it's thanksgiving! if i may say so myself, i deserve a break. and there i go again, whiny me. it's also quite coincidental (fate's mean trick on me, I THINK.) that these frustrating incidences always occur on the days right before when my great aunt marge (hahah) is supposed to come. Then i am very emotional and i cry easily. oh childish me. it's not that i'm even that sad; but trust me...at times like these, little obstructions such as times like these irk me SO MUCH. it feels devastating (dramadrama) and i feel as if the world just crashes down on me and i feel so, so tired.

well enough of my grumble rumbles.

this picture is so lovely; the significant others in this picture look like they were genetically created for each other. :)
their eyes reminded me of dark, smoky...things....and i will write something along the lines of that, but right now, i can only whine...

Time

Time

mangles the heart,

and draws out

the note

leaving it poignantly

suspended

in the heavy air.

Crumpled Origami

Delicate child crane,

Born from this life,

Stretches its thin, rice-paper wings.

How transparent and lucid,

Those thin bones.

How heavy, the weight of the world.

Far too heavy, for the skeletal

veins trickling through the

faint heartbeat of these

paper children.

The inevitability of destruction,

Society's iron will which

rejects all those beautiful

in their fragility of mind.

Crumpled origami,

the torn, mangled architecture

of thin, whispering paper

inflicted by those biting tongues,

oblivious to the perfection

in the weak.

Not knowing that those broken

-are the ones who never bent

to the iron will of

this cold world's fury.

Turn over. Breathe.

These recollections...

of past, of present, of

subconscious future...

...they haunt me.

These memories...

torment my body.

I struggle against my chains

-Only to find my wrists

bleeding and chafed.

Oh, my love

My dearest love,

Damn your realism

and cross this new divide.

Bridge the gap between

our hesitant, unsure,

tender-to-the-touch feelings.

Shivering in the empty hallway,

How I miss your presence.

I thought I had packed up

all my beautiful memories,

But all I can take away

is my own emptiness.

Your smile, your warmth,

the smell of your hair...

I can't quench this longing for you.

My wrinkled, tear-stained days...

I desperately search for traces of you.

I wonder and wonder

about all that has been put behind

and I can only remember remembering.

Turn over.

Breathe.

Staying Afloat

This week, I have been QUITE uninspired. Maybe it’s the oppressive work load, but really, I do not feel like squeezing every precious moment out of life recently. I just want to stay afloat and not let myself err too far from what I ought to be doing. Harp, for example. I haven’t sat down to practice more than an hour for almost two weeks. That is…unacceptable. Terrible! How could I let my one defining trait in life drop? I feel so guilty. But yet...when I do sit down, I’m always distracted and can never really get in a solid, productive practice time. Ah me. Do not get me wrong; I love harp more than anything. It is ecstasy; it is love, it is beauty, it is bliss. There is not a more beautiful sound produced in this human world. Wow I sound so narcissistic. I need to practice. So badly. For 5 hours.

Yet everything always drags me down.

But in the end, I’m always back again. What a meaningless post. This better not become a pattern. I have been so uninspired..I can't even write poetry at all. :(

Separation

The endless liquid sea of sky

has turned me

-sprawling, onto my back

helpless in the dizzying intensity

of memory.

The beauty of bittersweet

touches my eyelash

pricking with its startling familiarity.

A single tear

 - do I shed.

This tear - do I offer

to the naked heavens

I'd touch a star

and send a kiss

on its angel-backed wings

to deliver a heartfelt message

to

you.

But yet, it cannot be true.

This sameness

- of sky

- of liquid sea..

Why else, then...

Would my star messenger

return without a flicker of

emotion?

Tonight, I touch my Apollo

and his coldness is devoid of

emotion.

Is it too far?

I send the fleeting wings of the

heavens themselves.

Yet even he cannot break

the unbreakable wall.

Oppressive dissatisfaction

crushes in on me from all sides.

I press myself against

the cold, black grass

which cannot soak up

my dripping memories.

Separation is eternity.

The Observer

You bend your head

and shape your hands

to the geography of ivory

piano keys.

I see your passion

I hear your conscience

The depth of your soul

- I cannot begin to fathom.

Your words provide a

safeguard for the sea

of emotion, of thought,

and of sorrow

- which I do not understand.

This discontentment

of wanting to know.

I stretch out my hand

and like a ripple on glass,

you pull away.

Smooth and impenetrable.

Fascination and frustration

-I am now privy to their inspection

How I wish to know

your personal psychology.

I cannot see

-I cannot touch
 your inner mind.

Sunk below the sea foam surface.

I can only observe

and come up with a blank

upon drawing a conclusion

- envying those who do understand.

I submerge myself

Hoping-praying-

to be part of your passion

and part of the conscience

-which I cannot begin to fathom.

Help me understand.

Let me understand.