I wake up from this slumber
Startled at midnight
Awoken by fresh love
And suddenly this vast loneliness in the unending universe
Seems very small
I crave to cry
And how my tears turn their way through my throat deep into the entrails
So no one ever could find them.
Why are they such hypocrites, like you, my love ?
They are a hemlock I drink everyday.
I wonder when this rib cage of mine dampened with a grave desires and weighed under indelible pain will burst into a thousand confetti.
My apocalypse.
I fear, my love, each shattered piece of me will still worship the soul you cage within...
Human beings no matter where they go in the world, will always seek home: in places, in people, in things, and in food. Perhaps because at the end of the day one wants to be vulnerable and yet are loved. We search for a setting where not the flesh, not the bones, but the very soul beneath it is adored and cradled like a newborn, squealing, and needy for love. As long as I lived with my family, I never realized the worth of home, unless one day, I was out in the wide world, alone, apprehensive, and being indoctrinated by societal norms every single day. The only pockets of peace that I was left with was a 'chosen family': a farrago of strangers that I met, and before I could decide to love or hate them, I was entangled with them like wollen strands in the mesh of a new warm cardigan. I have lived with a plethora of strangers, loved them, held them close in my most vulnerable moments, and then cried bitterly when we parted. After a time, both parties agreed on their fate and mo
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