My Muse

I’m humming a tune that I can finally remember. I write it down. The words float to me easily, the melody plays in my ears, I am immersed in the sound of beauty. A few tweaks and I’m onto a masterpiece.

The ideas come freely, I am a-gaggle and a-goggle with giddy delight. I laugh and smile, a little less hollow now. I’m wrapped in words and the plot rolls before me like a river to chart my course to the path I had struggled to achieve and yet never quite approached.

I am watching romance films and I don’t know why but I find them charming rather than nauseating.

It’s like the bubbling in my chest, the joy of life, the crisp of autumn, all combine to make me alive. I want to be alive again, and my fingers and heart and soul are dancing a melody of something genuine and new, something unfolding from inside like a sheltered flower that finally bloomed.

This didn’t happen before and I don’t know what it means now that it is.

I just am.

I exist and for once, that’s okay.

Are you the one who unlocked my creative side? The side so still and cold I thought it maybe had died from neglect or… sadness.

With all this, I am feeling again, and that means that pain is on the way. Time to slaughter and slay and to forget all my names.

And yet I cradle it close, like a long lost lover. Captivated by it’s light and beauty. I am subdued by its power and it rules me. For a time, for a season. Will it fade away and leave me again with the gray?

Is this a love? Or is this pain disguised as pleasure?

When will you hurt me. Again.

Metal and edge, the beauty of a katana is not just in how it gleams in the light. But in its slash and cape of blood. Likewise, something this beautiful starts with joy and cuts to the quick in a sharp and incisive way. Needlepoint my heart. Cover my eyes, and make me love again.

It hurts, it’s love, it hurts.

It’s love.

It hurts.

It is raw and untethered, like grated nerves stretched for piano wire.

It cuts yet the sound is piercing.


A Message to Burn

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They will never know how much you swallowed. They will never understand how much it hurt. Hindsight can only glance at the depths of emotional gradation sinking deeper and deeper in the well of yesterday.

You are completely validated in your anger.

The forest steams in the late afternoon sun, the stench of smoke and ash sinks into your bones. Grey and coals blanket your feet, the stoic fossils of trees list in anguish as their twisted fingers impale the sky. Sparks still pop, but more in hush and awe at the aftermath. Heat sears your feet, the white ash hides the glowing heart of flame hunkering down for the moment but ready to rise anew.

You wonder if it should rain. The clouds froth overhead, fading from light to dark and back again, mirroring your tumultuous thoughts. Should you have mercy or should you add more fuel?

Weariness descends suddenly. The cinders in your palm sting and gnaw greedily at your melting skin. Pain inflicts you despite the death of the forest -as if the trees had infused their agony into your flesh.

Should you persist? Or should you forgive?

Thunder rumbles, lightning forks through the clouds. Darkness falls, a final curtain. A fat droplet slaps your cheek -more follow. Stinging droplets of ice prickle the carcass of the smoldering forest; steam sings as the liquid infuses the veins of fire.

The embers flicker in your hand. Rain torrents with wrath and fury, each drop a tiny dagger of retaliation. You thought the fire to be all-consuming, but underestimated the rage of the skies.

A final song of sorrow, ash slogs into mud, the caramelized trees surrender their orange flame for blacked rags. A cleansing rain that moistens the dust and death with the promise of something new.

You know that it will take time to heal.

The wet streaks on your face aren’t (just) rain.

Zis Regret: Her Final Valentine

Ze wishes to go back in time
And never meet her
Knowing now, the end
Ze wished it had never even begun.

But youth is foolish
The summer air fills with potential
A world of happiness trapped
In her smile.

Like any smile, hers hides a world of pain
Zis laugh smothers discontent
But both find pleasure in the moment
Of meeting.

If only ze
Had stuck to zis instincts
Ze could have avoided
So much anguish.

They duct taped a world
And made it their own
Exacerbating each other
Painful hindsight.

Ze wonders if ze had
Been too vulnerable
Perhaps, ze should not have been so honest
Should have kept zis heart locked away.

Because she hurt zim so much more
Than all the others who’d gone before
Not just because of timing
But because ze had trusted her.

Ze wanted to be vulnerable
With her, test the waters
After prior hurts, ze
Let her in.

Ze can’t do this anymore
Can’t deal with friends who hurt
And carve up zis soul
Grafitti zis skin with scars.

Ze has no more tolerance
The pain drowns zim
Ze’d rather erase all their days
Never meet her again.

Ze’d rather she just tell him straight
That she hates zim, wants nothing to do with zim
That she’d explain why
She hurt zim this way.

Ze doesn’t need to be hurt again
Ze hurts zimself enough
Others have hurt zim before
She doesn’t need to hurt zim again.

Why did she pretend to love zim?
Ze’d rather stay alone
Than be tricked into thinking that someone
Wanted to be zis friend.

And what did ze ever do to her?
To make her turn against zim
Ze doesn’t know, and perhaps it’s
Better that way.

But ze’s done writing messages
To never hear reply
Ze’s done wondering what ze did
To be driven into exile.

Ze doesn’t want to hear her name
Never again will ze
Even worry for a moment that she’s okay
Because ze needs to be selfish, else ze will die.

And, yes, perhaps it has nothing to do with zim
The silence could be purely coincidental
But when she ghosted zim from her life
It went beyond apathy to pure indifference.

And ze’s tired of feeling that pain
Tired of bleeding out on the balcony
Waiting for her to find zim worthy
To reenter her good graces.

What had ze done?
What had ze done to result in this?
All ze knows is that the rift isn’t zis
And that ze needs to let go – once and for all.

And so, ze stumbles away
Binding wounds that bleed to this day
Someday, ze will regain zis trust
But definitely not today.

Perhaps ze will finally
Find someone who actually cares
Will love zim, and will not
Cut zim up again.

But the world is meant to hurt
Ze accepts that ze will always be carved
By those who pretend to love
Hopefully next time, ze will see it coming.

Blinded by love
Ze never saw her
Blade sinking into
Zis heart.

Garroting the Echos.

“I just have… so many thoughts!” I said, turning to my unseen confidant.

My confidant and confessor (a she, I sensed) sat silently to my right draped in black veils and dark robes.

My hands smooth up my face and my thumbs slide to my temples as I lightly massage my head with my fingers, combating the tendrils of stress winding through my skull.

And there are so many thoughts… how can I possibly write them all down or track them for posterity.  

My silent companion didn’t move, in a stillness most artificial. I suddenly wondered, a tendril of thought, whether she was the harbinger.

And my dream spiraled away…

It’s those moments. Those small actions that harken back to memories of pain.

Continue reading Garroting the Echos.

I Borrowed Your Pain

I borrowed your pain
Quite unconsciously
And I do want to give back these holes
Because I forgot how much it rips my soul

The restless nights
The gulping and swallowed
Screams and reams of pain
That cannot keep these bones sane.

I didn’t protect myself
And I was left unprotected and
Vulnerable to your agony and hope
And now I’m the one trying to cope.

The typical expression
Of rough words and tones
I cannot retrieve, and I lied
To say I wasn’t confused and lost and dying inside.

The physical manifestation
Of this pain would be a relief
I know it, I dreamt it, I am it
And I must continue to deny myself against it.

I miss it, I hate it
I wallowed in an old and familiar
Sensation of loss and disturbance
I don’t even ask, I just accept it’s my comeuppance.

I suppose you’d say
It’s harmful and unhealthy
I don’t know, as much as I hate
It, it’s an addiction I miss and can’t shake.

As real as this is to me
You are not actually real;
I borrow your words and world
To manifest your agony in my soul unfurled.

It’s crazy, it’s insane
It’s addicting, I love
To hate, always miss
To avoid the awful return of this cursed kiss.

Empathy, don’t you know
This doesn’t exist
Your pain isn’t real and that this
Is just a book? -Work of fictitious.

You are a fiction to me
You don’t exist in my world
And yet, I suck it all in; the fey
Dark, an unnatural case of death and decay.

Crave, my ugly
Addiction in my brain,
This sadistic line tortured
To squeeze the faucet of emotion nurtured.

I will extinguish this sensation
And ruminate on your words
Ringing false and plain
After extracting  your pleasure from my pain.

“Cuz you’re An artist!!!”

*Picture from

Profit from pain
Pour your soul out
For some cash money flow

We’ll never know the why
But we like to pretend we’re there too
That’s why we say your name

Because we are attracted
Like flies to honey
We are all there, crouching vultures.

Continue reading “Cuz you’re An artist!!!”

Pale White beaches


The sift of albino sand beneath his feet,
Chills toes in shoes and force sandals to haste retreat.
Insidious, they stuff themselves into every crevice.

He stares at the ocean and wonders
If his arms will ever hold more than silence,
If he will hear -something- aside from emptiness. Continue reading Pale White beaches

Sawing Apart Heartstrings

I stand here at the beginning
And wonder how it ends
The stars are silent and still
The sun is gone.

I knew and did not know
That you meant your words
That you didn’t mean what you said
That you spoke both lies and truth

I suddenly feel the pain
That first stings, then escalates
I finally see the tip
Of the knife you slipped through my ribs

I thought my white shirt had finally bloomed roses,
But this viscous stain…
Merely my fatal flaw
Of oblivion to what seemed so obvious to you

Who knew -no, I should have known
Hindsight always makes me so wise;
Mistaking your ambushed thrust,
For a loving embrace.

Perhaps it is my foolishness,
My delusion;
Did I carelessly assume
Your heart to be synonymous with mine?

The mirror and I and two dry eyes,
Would this be the final we walked and spoke side by side?
Aye, would that I could forget,
Would that I could remember that precious fold and wrinkle of time.

Metal never felt so cold
Or a breath so frigid
Than in that moment when i removed my ring
And signed that paper.

I stand here at the end,
And wonder at the beginning.
Why did you speak?
Why did I respond?

{All I ask, is that you cut me clean,
If you are to wound me;
Finish it all,
And finally, finish me.}

Yet I’ve never heard a ripple
So quiet and still.

Based on interpretations and visualizations of portions of "Cha Seok Hoon's" emotions from "Temptation" season 1: episode 9.