Rest.

I see something’s shadow
and the shadow sees me.
I’m tired & have nothing left to give.
Haven’t I always been like this?

I hear the rustle of the leaves,
I don’t know what it means.
Give me another thousand years
I may know that peace.

My brain’s hurting, being alive.
Don’t know what I’m feeling,
in the depth of the streetlight.
Seems always running, chasing a rest.

You sing it the best, versions of good night.
Since we’re still here, make it a goodbye.
Or just forget, sometimes it comes back, another life,
nothing changes, death blind, drinking in time.

You say the line, I know it sounds right.
It’s a celebration, the guests never left.
Baby, don’t you know? The desperation’s too real?
Give oblivion another time capsule.

I must be smart.

I think I might be smart.
I know the big Os of sorts.
Facebook, big G asking me out.
On the shortlist, I must be hot.

A female professional, heads-down workahoe.
Don’t tell me what to do though.
Designed it, implemented it, tested it, you say oh.
What’s that? No raise, no promo?

Skills solid, let me send you the receipts.
Served you right, recruiting me,
asking me where I’d like to live.
Seattle, NY, bay area, wherever you need.

You thought I could just be,
you could guess it on my race,
or maybe it’s just the resume.
You got your process, I have my vaca.

Travel’s tiring, I have 45 minutes
to show you what I got,
plenty others waiting their turns, no rush.
It’s the result that talks.

It’s binary, it’s emotional.
End of day, make it compilable.
Are you machine enough to be one of us?
Come back when your systems have stickers on top.

Tea time.

Candy or tea,
one bitter, one sweet.
One tells you’re awesome,
the other tells you’re weak.

Plenty of medicine nobody wants
when you can have syrup for breakfast.
Forget the suffering & the malice
long as there’s elixir in the chalice.

Cut the debate,
have some cake.
Nothing to say,
since we all agree:

“It’s so good.”
“It’s so fluff.”
“What’s the receipt?”
“Let me take a shot!”

Sweetness is good,
artificially assured,
to satisfy your cravings.
Some tea for cleansing.

Good & bad in one saucer,
nothing much else matters.
Have another spoonful of sugar,
let me fill in more hot water.

Nothing like the teatime,
to get the weekend started.
Thinking on the civilized,
all planning & strategize.

Big time, choose a side,
whoever wins, on the sideline.
It’s OK, we’re doing great.
Let’s all clink for teatime.

Don’t be afraid.

I trace the lines forth and back,
seeing a life from the mind’s eyes.
Getting clearer now this winding sketch,
and how it may go under my own hands.

The ink spills now and then,
smudges the cloth a thousand threads.
Tear it apart again and again,
looking for a perfection until I can’t.

Stained my arms, stained my face,
still something’s out of place.
Won’t stand still, afraid of being overtaken
by a desperation that has no name.

Something inside tells me not to trust
a crazy little thing they call love.
Steadying my hands as I draw the lines,
throw away passion for some peace and quiet.

A hopeless quest, a deranged mind,
bursting with love, don’t know how to express.
“You can come with me now, I know the way.”
Finally a voice says, “Don’t be afraid.”

Else.

Empty streets, full of crowds,
restaurant lines, strangers’ smiles.
Fast history who am I gonna be?
Safest route, not liking where it leads.

Success belongs to everyone,
failures belong to me.
I hoard them like a motherfucker,
so just leave me be.

I revel in them like nothing else,
draw me back to some place else.
Cozy enough with the cold & the trials.
Don’t mind me when I wonder off.

It’s not about myself or the hoops I made.
It’s all about myself, is there anything else?
Part of a disease, part of something to prevail.
Always something else in the middle of this wild.

Puzzle box.

I didn’t know I have to defuse my emotions.
I thought they were just like soldiers, they come and go.
Now I’m facing all these puzzle boxes,
I have to be prepared in a certain way,
wait for the right shade, on my tiptoes.
Will it be a treasure or a bomb, whoever can know?
Maybe that’s why Buddhas have their eyes closed?
They’re looking inside not outside, but what do they find?
There are no puzzles? That can’t be right.
Those that are enlightened, do they just forget?
Leave everything behind cause they don’t wanna deal with life?
I can understand that, I dreamt of running away too.
I’d rather be eating tofu and rice then dealing with the blood on my hand.
These puzzles though, they make my hands shake, they make my vibe weak.
I just don’t know, how far this thing goes?
If it will still be here when I’m old?
Is it life’s mission to push forward and feel?
Is it a chance? A curse? A blessing? A gamble?
Like in the movies, someone writes the scripts, someone gets to play,
someone gets to watch and dream, someone can’t afford the tickets.
I don’t know, I don’t know. One by one I unpack the crumbling boxes,
examine them, break them part, put them together, hoping to build a home.