hate

on days that are mundane, we begin wondering where do we belong
sometimes it just doesn't make sense to stay here for too long, we go crazy
rather than being human, be fiction

gold

we watch a fish struggle for life so as to exact revenge on those we cannot
a goldfish doesn't remember but we do, so do we.

on days when i am not conscious of you, i might have a chance at living.

loud

i would like to be a residential experiment in the asylum thus i am writing in for the position. Attached are my resume and contact details. Hiding while waiting is sometimes tiring. It is the wait that keeps your feet on their toes. They say, "Do not worry" so we crow and we crow til the buzz in our head drowns out. i'm at a loss. i lost hope, i'm a lost cause, i've lost. i'm lost. I'm pretty good at forgetting, I woke up yesterday morning and realized you amaze me; your capacity of love that is.

the guilty are not charged in the madhouse.
daydreamers are sinners too.

blame

in the madhouse there are lovers,
scapegoats, bait, daydreamers, corrupted and innocents
the wardens have poison on their lips, serpent tongues and reptile eyes
the mail box is full on thursdays, instructions for the cook
there are astronauts waiting to take over the moon
we blame these fools, condemn and out of conceit
the asylum's open, visiting hours only on the thirteenth hour

hanging dirty lingerie out in public
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