insane love

I don't want normal love

I want that 4-am-nightmares-about-you-leaving-me-in-11-different-scenarios where you have to reassure me a dream is a dream

I don't want normal love

I want that i-wanna-go-home-and-leave-me-the-fuck-alone where you wait outside the bathroom door worrying how much blood I shed 

I don't want normal love

I want that just-one-more-please where you have to put down the glass and deal with my fucked up suicidal drunken state

I don't want normal love

I want that have-you-taken-your-meds where you get disappointed because I keep skipping them on purpose, but you forgive me anyway

I don't want normal love

I want that im-sleeping-with-a-knife-by-my-side when you aren't there to help me sleep at night and it worries you to death to the point you can't even blink for a second

I don't want normal love

I want that im-going-to-kill-myself-if-you-leave-me where you hold out of horror because you're terrified to lose me forever

I don't want normal love

I want a heart wrenching love

that suck the living out of your blue soul,

ripping your beating pulse and flesh,

devouring every inch of your numb body,

chugging every drop of your warm blood

I don't want normal love

nostalgic morning

the sharp pain always stings my chest at 4 am

when the city is still asleep, including you

it's just me, my trauma, and the creeping coldness from head to toe while i'm drenched in sweat

I need to hold onto an inhaler so that I won't suffocate

I need to hold onto a life jacket so that I won't sink

so I hold onto you as you breathe in composed rhythms

the moment your eyes meet my well-being,

you don't hesitate to put me in an embrace,

wrapping my heavily trembling body inside your warm hugs

you put a cigarette between my cracked lips,

then you light it up and whisper soothingly,

"breathe in, breathe out," as your eyes guide me on how to breathe

you inhale the let-out smoke I made,

inhaling deeply as if it's the last oxygen left

"I breathe your pain; now it becomes ours."

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when we moved in and there were troubles, i could've been the handyman and fixed the inconveniences so you could rest easy.

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when the troubles happened again and irritated you, you could've saved your breath and let it out on me instead of someone else.

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when i realized there was a defect in me, i could've polished it so you wouldn't have to bear the ugliness of me.

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when there was a crack in your heart, i could've patched it up so there was no longer a doubt in it.

i should've been a mechanic instead of a poet, so when you said you grew tired of the repeating situations like a broken CD, i could've fixed it—heck, i could've replaced it with something new for the sake of you.

but i'm a mere poet, so when there were troubles, inconveniences, defects, and cracks, all i could do was wrap my arms around your shoulders, hoping it would deflate the tension.

but i'm a mere poet, so when there were troubles, inconveniences, defects, and cracks, all i could do was whisper millions of sorrys, hoping you'd give me a second chance.

but i'm a mere poet, so when there were troubles, inconveniences, defects, and cracks, all i could do was beg on my knees, hoping you'd come back to me.

but i'm a mere poet, so when there were troubles, inconveniences, defects, and cracks, all i could do was write dozens of poetry, hoping you'd see through my heart, mind, and soul.

but i'm a mere poet and you're just an illiterate.

love never goes out of season

I wasn't someone who acknowledged the art of praying

but it was July 7th and I relied on God's favor

you made it come true and ever since then I'm no longer godless

you started by plucking the wilding

ended up scratching your tender hands

but you said "everything's fine," as you wrapped a bandage

then you continued watering down my grave

you had to walk miles to find a glimpse of waterfall

stepping on sharp pebbles, leaving sticky red liquid all the way to the grave

"you're beautiful yet untended, it's such a shame"

you said as you spread different kind of flowers

I swore I could smell them six feet buried underground

it was summer

the rain wouldn't come any time soon

so you replaced the sky's duty to water me down everyday

once again you saved me

when it was supposed to be

a divine being or the universe's onus

"you're now my summer project,"

"but I don't want this to end soon,"

"love never goes out of season."

right side of the bed

friday night august eleventh

never thought this would be the day where i

got to find my will to live again and look forward to brighter suns

a key in our hands

as we looked at each other for the nth time

never thought inserting into a keyhole would excite so much

the moment the door was closed

i remember it vividly how our lips crashed

bodies pushing against each other passionately

under the dimmed kitchen lights

we declared our love

with a clink of peach soju glasses that i liked

it wasn't perfect

you wanted to move out right away

out of embarrassment of disappointing me

what more could a broken soul desire

when all they wanted was served before the eyes?

when all they wanted was a love so pure from the love of their life?

we sat down comfortably

letting the bed suck our bottoms in

glueing us not to move an inch, freezing the moment 

i picked the left side of the bed

and you were left with no choice

but to stay on the right side of the bed

the right side of the bed

where the sun shone right through the wooden blinds to say hello every morning

where the moon and the stars shone right at you, taking turns as the sun bid adieu

the right side of the bed

so i had a reason to turn right every chance i got

so i had a reason to make everything right when things went strayed

the right side of the bed

where i captured you beautifully every second our lives went by

and so that i didn't have to turn left facing the mirror's cruel truth, avoiding the monster shown in me

but you saw it

right behind me

whenever you turned to your left side

perhaps

that's one of the reasons why you left

as you grew tired of seeing the ugliness of me

perhaps

that's one of the reasons why you left

as you grew terrified of seeing the monster, getting more sinister each day

perhaps

perhaps

perhaps

little by little

you stopped turning to

the left side of the bed

little by little the glue dried

and it was easy to detach

so you started setting yourself free from me

little by little

you tossed our slokis to the trash can

as you tossed your things away, too

leaving me shackled

on the queen sized bed

forever reminiscing your right side of the bed

a despicable thorny rose in the field of dandelions

despicable you,

standing tall still after a direful hurricane,

glistening after a heavy rain attacking the dirt,

blushing lovely even in the midst of a blizzard,

while the rest was ruined, fell out, and became nonexistent

despicable you,

despite of that,

the dandelions will bloom back and beam you again

a love letter from a homeless man

dear the man who I look up to,

why is it that every time you walk past me

you take your time to stop and come back?

do you know that it gives me hope?

to keep sitting in the same place

under the shade of a perforated bus stop

the rain keeps me wet and cold 

while the sun stings and burns my skin

nevertheless, I'm never moving forward

dear the man whom I long for,

why is it that every time you're with a company

you never take your time to glance at me

is it because of my appearance?

is it because of my rotten odor?

is it because you saw right through me the last time our eyes spoke?

had I known, 

only if you told me with spoken words

that I'd understand the meaning behind your gaze

dear the man who changes his routes, 

is it wrong for a filthy homeless man like me

to be in love silently with you?

lolita

shiny things surrounding me,

but it didn't bother me 

love some pink for me

and make the drink sweet for me 

patting me,

tickling me 

giggles were let out by me,

some "ah" escaped the lips of me 

"you're a brat," you talked down on me

"I like you," you added to me 

slowly, you took off the top of me

your teeth landed at the ear of me 

"you're like a little kid," you teased me

"it's not an insult," you loved that for me 

I loved that for me

was it wrong of me?

if my heart were a house

my house was filled with spiderweb, 

no owner, not even a guest

then you rang the doorbell, once, twice, thrice

you broke in, letting your feet wandered around

there was something that caught your eyes,

a cracked holed wall

"I like this place," you said despite the dust flying around filled your lungs til it's hard to breath

"I like this place," you said regardless the broken wall being an eyesore to your sight

you called an ambulance, 

"please fix this wall"

diamonds, syringes, alcohol, pills, cements 

mixed, stirred, patched, repeat

a day, a week, a month, sleepless nights

mixed, stirred, patched, repeat

"you'll be fixed," you said with a loving tone,

caressing the wall as it started to hardened 

birds chirping by the windows accompanying you every morning and night, singing a love song

a love song about a man who loved an eerie abandoned house in the middle of nowhere

"it'll be just like magic," you reassured the wall before you went to sleep like a routine

you loved the wall more than ever,

or so you thought

what you didn't consider was, old building would always be fragile

one blow and it's back to crack 

two blows and it collapsed

"what the fuck is wrong with this place?"

you were full of rage as you stomped your feet out of the house

leaving the once abandoned, taken cared house back to its place

filled with spiderweb, dust, cracked, holed, abandoned