I breathed in that last burning breath and flicked its end onto the ground. I stamped upon it, but the fire was not extinguished. I stamped once again and pulled up my foot to see, it was still not extinguished. I miss you now, feeling that same fire burning inside my chest. I let you […]Read More Cigarette End
Sorry readers, I cannot think of any better way to write this piece, because what overwhelms my body and soul at the moment is only these trite three words, eight letters to that one person: “I love you” Suggested soundtrack: An Amalgamation Waltz 1839 by Joep BevingRead More I Love You
But we are human with heart and soul. How could our warm flesh get prevailed from cherishing the sun, and our beating heart from admiring the moon? Or our human’s nature is more beautiful than that of the nature out there? So ideally we should mindfully concentrate on only ourselves. I disagree. Suggested soundtrack: Tristesse […]Read More Tristesse d’Olympio
What catastrophe will it lead to? Why such moral standards are needed to set apart teacher and student, doctor and patient, artist and model, and so on so forth? It is the matter of nearness. Why aren’t teacher and assistant professor prohibited to each other? Why aren’t doctor and nurse? Artist and his peer? Heart […]Read More Why is It So Wrong?
Full and bright hangs there lover’s moon. Springst romance in this night of June. Reach out to touch thee does my hand. Leap up my feet from where I stand, Yet lover’s moon is still too far. . The stars start to blink mocking me. Also laughters heard from the trees. Is my solitude so […]Read More Lover’s Moon
Why heart is the tenderest thing, While love is but the roughest thing? Why the two needs encountering, For the suffering to beget? . Why bygones can’t be just bygones, While present is mostly cheat’ on? Why, why memory needs to haunt, Merely for the sore to beget? . Why is it true that you […]Read More Why and While
I do not want to sleep. I hate sleeping. I do not want to dream, to be falling in that black hole full of illusionary stories. And then to get dragged desperately back to the reality in which none of those stories exists. It is just an exhausting cycle, happening nights after nights. . Sometimes […]Read More Personal No. 8