Washroom. 

Tap empty 

Void of purpose 

Filled with air 

Flush turns to drips

Strays caught on rims 

Metal warm  

No longer throbbing 

Lifeless and quiet 

Blood gone 

Mute hands cup 

Nothing but air 

Dirty dust and loss 

No water 

No water 

No water

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Numbers, accumulation, nothing. 

Numbers mean nothing. 

Numbers just represent an accumulation of whatever you are trying to count. However, there is no value in merely counting. 

It is possibly one of the weakest points to substantiate something. 

You may be old, but if you have never learnt from lessons and experienced anything fully, there is no wisdom. 

I may work at my craft, but if I have no heart and constantly cut corners, there is no true art created. 

We may be dating for years on end, but if there is always tipping of toes and no intimacy of any level, there is nothing to hold on to. 

Numbers are not good enough reasons to hold on to lacking love, unreasonable pride and boastful bullying. 

So let your years speak through life experiences and the way you carry yourself. So let your work speak for themselves. So let your hearts beat and carry you forward. 

– 

Always know what you want, and earn that. 

Lost in Conversation. 

Thoughts come and go, pile up and overwhelm you as they collapse. 

I might not really prefer this way of living, but I find it hard to imagine a life without my mind talking to me all the time. Guess I have learnt to live with this, and make the best of it. 

It also helps that I have learnt how to game my own system when I really need to. 

However, I wonder if this makes me a difficult person to live with. To make conversation with, to listen to my considerations, to pick up from what I offer from one moment to another, to fully understand how many perspectives I have on a single situation itself. 

Sometimes this is almost invisible, other times, it is a neon sign flashing in my mind. But of course, invisible does not mean it disappears fully. It still is visible, simply hidden well. 

It happens most often with people I fully trust. After all, I am comfortable enough to just voice thoughts out as they come and have them sound back to me in the safe space of our friendship. 

And having so many things to translate from my mind to my body to you, it is difficult when you do not listen without distractions. 

Or when you do not share your opinions. 

I mean, here I am so vulnerable yet you look away, mouth mute and numb. Do you not trust me enough, are my thoughts too fast, too fierce, or have years of closeness left nothing in between  us for you to say anymore? 

And in your silence, my mind blows up and I collapse yet again. An endless death. 

Untitled #40. 

You tell yourself to get into bed for some rest; sleep is the best cure for the restless. 

Yet your mind keeps going without your body functioning. 

And I guess that’s how you dream all night from the same place, without actually going anywhere. 

– 

Instead of rest, I get adventures that do not exist but are so close to reality. Tiredness. 

Soleless. 

(I find myself walking bare feet on the ground when it rains, or if my shoes fall apart. I wouldn’t buy a new one to wrap my feet up again. I just walk.) 

Midnight 

Imposed safety walked away 
I lost 
Bare feet treading 

Concrete earth 

Inches of skin 

Sinking into granite 

Imprinting the sole 

Echoes of travelling 

Naked touch 

Feel textured ground 

Breathing underneath
No protection 

After shedding the need of

Disguised limbs 
Fallen apart 
But

I found my way 

Home; whole again 

Day. 

Air – for breathing, for space, for growth. Also, for death to be frozen in time. 

Black and white 

Adds up to gold 

Glittering 

In the Sun 

Oxidation ritual of 

Ammonia air 

Filling in the gaps 

Burning the tongue 

Ash and dust

Silence is 

Golden 

Invisible 

Threads 

Gentle fingers 

Caress dead leaves 

Reflected in the lake

Of birth 

Black/White. 

Adds up to gold. Precarious balance. 

Us two are bound by blood and birth. Two hearts humming the same lullaby. Hearts of Yin and Yang; we are two halves of a whole. Of mirrored painted souls. Mirrored from one tie-dyed canvas of a biological mother, to a world of difference. From seeing different skies through globe-reflecting eyes. Seeing birds but one feeling freedom, the other fright. Birds – captured, clipped and caged. Captured by the Unknown, clipped by fear and caged by the need for constant freedom. By the ninth month, we tangled ourselves up in fingers, toes and got caught in the umbilical loop. The inability to live drunken on amniotic fluid. Inability – the state of being unable to do something. The state of mind in which you held me – in arms and in the gut; I am now forever yours, and you, forever mine. State of birth, and reincarnation.