Do You Want to be Born?
The first thing any parent needs to do—on earth—is to apologize to their child. Why? Because they had given birth to him or her without ever asking: “Do you want to be born? Are you sure you want to be born in this bastard world? A world you would hate, even if you were born out of so-called lovemaking—which in the end will always bring out the ironic side of every parent’s dream.”
Sirens to Parent
O c’mon, Mom, Dad. I’m just a kid who is trapped in an adult’s body. Seeking for attention, affection, and love in the midst of my head. And I can’t pretend that I just need both of you—to comprehend all of this nonsense reality.
On the other hand, I know the world is huge; too huge till it made me so scared. I accept the dare. Outdare the time, to live without regret. Despite sometimes, my will to die is stronger than my will to live. Grieve: like a kid who can’t face the void of night.
I know, life is overrated, while death is so underrated. But, I don’t wannabe a sinking ship in the ocean of fate. When I try to conquer those endless dread. So please understand that, Mom, Dad.
Sextet: Old Dread’ Tales
I wandered like a cursed devil
Roaming in the darkness of heaven
When all the angeI died, I saw an owl
End up in the womb of a craven;
Beside the brave, beneath the desire,
Dancing with time, so look at the sky
Its over, o its over my mighty god
The last light slowly goes out
Rip a bones then tears a blood
Forgoten in the midst of crowd
Blinded, no cursed soul allowed
Shallow, let destiny throw a sorrow
The hell is other people
The people just build a border
Even Adam and Eve eat an apple
The sins better faster than never
Lose by fate is immortal death
O lonely soul; hunt for a soulmate
Should I? Tell me, should
I kill myself or kill my rage
Or blissfully with solitude;
Burn every wave or a cage
Alas! O who wants to forgive me?
O mighty god, who wants to hug me?
I want to sleep
crawl the owl
a lark: o I feel lonely
in the cold of the dark.
For truth and for shit
I swat a mosquito, offer it
to a clumsy lizard.
under the piled-up snow
now turns into rain.
Night; and once again,
the waves of Kanagawa
can’t save our last enigma.
Time and Being
Time after time—
Being and time
that is timeless.
Let’s Dance, My Dear…
In the end, the essence of life is not about celebrating birth or condemning life; but dancing with the anxious corpses, over the graves—our own—which are always in the shadow of the fear of death and vanity.