United States

Enneagram Type 4w3
A fandom dweller
The younger half of WtW
formerly known as Lethargic_Earthworm

Message from Writer

shoutout to that one really sweet chrysanthemum drink you had when you were younger. it's still there in 99 Ranch you know.

mood: narrowed eyes and starlit skies.

five things:
—i think this generation will change the world.
—working on a novel but these days not really.
—too lazy to edit.
—i wish i could rap and produce music and stuff but i get too caught up in my own head to do it.
—i keep the seven deadly sins well fed next to my feet.

"it's a sacrifice you see.
"good things don't come for free."
-noctemlux, monachopsis, AO3

joined March 12th, 2020

Published Work

hurtling towards the deadline

there's time to cleave us out of this dreadful place we call home but 
our spare parts litter the floor like modern art and petrol popcorn is fit for consumption. 
flesh dissolves in saliva and so does pain, so you lick your fingers clean after dinner. 

CPR doesn't work on dead things, you learn, because you tried it on gaia.   
suck on the world like a lollipop, pop. 
and lick the salt from the seas. 

just learned to fly yesterday and you're already lost underground,
dirt tastes like chocolate cream but you've never had chocolate cream before.
think this is where dreams go to die. 
once you dreamed about a golden boy and he was gone the last day. 
gone to die. 

there are monsters on the moon and a giant snake will swallow the Earth. 
you're a little too late to class, sixth extinction has already outlined lesson plans to humanity. 
mars carved a piece from us and tucked...

white world | TW: mentioned main character death


"Say Norman, what do you think of this place?" 

A young mahogany-haired man poked at the clouds above him, which quickly dispersed with a hum. Norman blinked. 

Here he was, in a world surrounded by white. Everything was tender on the eyes, and he caught a wisp from the sky, rubbing it complacently between his fingers 

"It's beautiful, but not as beautiful as you, Satoshi," He said, years of practice refining his blunt flattery to its finest. Satoshi tilted his head in surprise before breaking out into a few light giggles. 

"You can't keep doing that!" He laughed breezily, cheeks dappled pink. Norman pursed his lips and fixated his gaze on Satoshi. 

It really was true though. Satoshi did look beautiful surrounded by white, pale skin almost glowing and emerald eyes shimmering with life. 

It was such a contrast to what he had been a few days prior. 

Norman glanced around again, taking a step forward. Unusually, he seemed...

almond joy | school bus

big yellow school bus comes barreling down the cracked road / don't forget your violin at the stop / swipe your broken bus card quickly / beep / seat 17 is where the heater is / the bus driver forgot to close the windows before the storm / sit on your hoodie so your pants don't get wet / swinging earbuds are like a melee weapon / second stop comes loud / you see the boy you had a crush on last year / and two of your friends always jam in beside you / or sit together in front of you / you hope it's the latter / 

get annoyed at the rowdy boys who / have started to push to the back of the bus / even though they're supposed to sit in the middle / you listen to kpop and vocaloid while staring out the rain streaked window / and watch those water droplets race on the glass /...

Writing Streak Week 9 Day 5


"Hurry up, I can't wait for you forever," The girl shouted, marching forward alone; however, she heard no footsteps behind her, and when she finally took a peek over her shoulder, there was no one at all. 

ephemerality goes both ways

the endless sky does not exist, no. 
tiptoe on the clouds, keep going and you'll come right back around. 
the endless sky does not exist. 

once i found a helium heart balloon in the middle of nowhere. 
i drew on a smile using permanent marker and kissed it to make it stay. 
apparently even helium gets heavy after an eternity. 
ink washes away in the rain and 
i can't bear the weight of air for any longer. 

maybe someday—

we lose another balloon to space and stardust, bury it in fine nothingness. 
the world ends with a quiet tremolo and the earth explodes into a million little moonrock meteorites. 
our intertwined fingers cremate in the sun and dissolve in dark matter

    (human lives are soluble in 
        —lemonade and sweet smiles—
    among other things) 

watch the earth's scars fade away with time, nature repairs itself slowly. 
while clutching the inevitability of change, your scars...

Writing Streak Week 9 Day 4


He tapped his girlfriend's shoulder, only to be met with a pair of glowing yellow eyes... "Fiona, how many times did I tell you to not finish all of our cornflakes?!" 

leave me empty: public catharsis

you take a scalpel and drag it across your chest, 
slowly and surely, press it down until lines of stardust appear. 

catharsis comes in bottles of blood and sells in hearts, 
sometimes you want to carve off your face so that no one can identify your corpse. 

it's easy to hide behind a chrysanthemum bud. 
it's easy to tear out your heart when no one knows your name. 

but not today, no. 

today, you talk until your voice ran hoarse, 
about things you've only seen written down in fine print. 

it hurts to do a public vivisection, to drain shrapnel from your chest. 
and it hurts a whole lot more when no one catches eyes on your bleeding heart, and it seems you're out of time again. 

tearing yourself open from the inside out and reaching out for help, desperately: please understand me. 
but they give you cotton to stuff inside your open stomach instead. as if that was what...

prosecution of the envious

lay me down in this stunted green fern 
before i decompose into fertilizer, scream me to sleep 
smear a layer of vegetative paint over my lips and pray that my 'sins' may be cleansed 
exhausted, i drift into slumber, this bitterness lodged in my throat like a half-digested pill
    once again, i fall victim to the perpetrators of 'justice'

tell me oh Lord how should i repent for the unwitting production of this emerald mustard gas 
i inhale it like i do air, allow it to asphyxiate me 'til i drop dead 

i unhinge my jaw screaming from the pain, yet your gaze cuts like i've turned into a ogre
poke me with your pointy sticks, my legs can only be called a gross mix of clay, shards of bone, and blood, yet you splint them to broken sheets of wood and say: "walk"
forward? there is no 'forward' in this maze of shrubbery still, you spit curses my...

three types of exhaustion

exhaustion—like a good tres leche cake—deepens the longer you leave it to sit. 

like playing your third volleyball game in a day, finally at the final game 
only to lose 25-10 in two sets. 
(you see it days later in your dreams, how the ball sounded when it dropped for the last time). 
the type of exhaustion that comes too early. 

the good kind of exhaustion that sort of sits on your tongue and dissolves like a color changing gobstopper 
the kind that suggests the results of hard work or 
comfort in the inevitability of losing it all. 
(there's a sick pleasantness knowing that there's nothing you could've done) 

and lastly the kind that you trust at first, because you're only a teen but you've missed your afternoon nap three days in a row. 
and you're relieved that when the time comes to lay your head down, you might be tired enough to fall asleep...

longing for a sort of delusional daydream

    (the tragedy of wanting something one cannot obtain) 
my eye sockets, grey with the dust and bones of a
    life beyond life
believing a greater power that is not God nor any deity that dishonors his name 
    believing in the simple daydream of a
        diamond city 
i will keep searching for this perfect world, this perfect lover
    while being acutely aware that it
does not exist   

    (there is glory in pain)
afraid to be 'normal' 
    afraid to be weathered by the endless universe 
don't want my life to be lived for nothing 
don't wanna be forgotten 
    pick up your basket of figurative language 
somehow we will create a better world out of this great
we will live on through our work 
we will be glorious 

    (individuality is uniqueness)
strive to not conform to this
    grey painted reality 
while caring too much 

Writing Streak Week 9 Day 3


Your skin had lightened significantly over the years, by the light of the moon—so much so that if the sun came out now, I was certain that you would've burned away on the spot. 

five stanzas of frustration

i keep the seven deadly sins well fed at my feet
but i sit on no throne and my walls vibrate with
the pungency of flimsy paper mache. 

i, a starving dog, can be kept well fed on even the most meager scraps.
but lately the quality of food has been increasing, 
    because of my good behavior?
i sure hope, and with this reflection comes two things: 
being simultaneously happy
—that the quality of taste is improving—
and afraid
—that i can no longer be kept fat with bones.

even simple praise raises the water level in my moon room. 
afraid of the day when i can no longer keep up this doggy paddling. 
the tips of my fingers have been calloused for a long time, and my lips are colored pyrite good.  
wish to believe i've reached here with my own strength until that strength is not enough. 
eventually light flickers out, just waiting in agony, 
for the...

Writing Streak Week 9 Day 2


She sneezed again, and suddenly, the sky roared, immediately twisting into an ugly cloud of wind. 

i'm too tired to sleep

balance a sledgehammer on the top of my head,
what a lovely crown. if i don't walk correctly, it would certainly kill me. 
that's just how it goes, i guess.
i think it's time for the wind to blow me out of my body so that 
i can feel my arms again. 
i don't wish for anyone to save me—
    although i do mutter those words in my sleep—
but i want to save myself. 
i want to be credited with lifting myself out of my own mud hole
so that my paper body can finally seem of use to my mediocre soul. 
expectations from others' is just peer pressure to put expectations onto yourself. 
a certain dislike to be told common sense, really
don't want to listen to your broken record voice. 
feels like i went to bed too late and 
woke up too late.
tired of being pushed around by universe's players and also tired of being...

cosmic horror (among other things)

universe zooms in on my melting face
like candle wax we're all softening against the relentless pressure of gravity. 
want to burn it all to the ground so that we can all feel 
plot holes in reality expand, fall deep into the backrooms and wander until you're a husk of a human being. 
the things that scare us, lovecraftian horror beyond human comprehension,
stare into the sky, wonder what kind of monster lurks on the moon. 
or feel around your blankets, a beast escaping the human sense of touch. 
look beyond our universe and we may go insane.
beyond us, creatures we can't even imagine. 
swallowing our planet whole. 
so small, just dots, easily eaten. 
in the next second we may all be
and we won't be able say there's a murderer. 
certainly, we stay content in our own little bubble. 
or else our retina may peel from our eyeballs and split our pupils into neatly sectioned pools...

from the same soul came us

servitude is the best identity.
can't get away from your dreams. 
ever wonder why your chest aches in the morning? 
perhaps there is someone searching for you
in the dark. 

    in order for star crossed lovers to reunite, 
    one must pursue 
    and the other must wait. 

but for whom? 
unconsciously confining yourself to these sand flavored wall,
without sleeping, only thinking. 
you don't know who you are, do you? 

    that man, the son of your master
    serve him well for many years before he 

servitude is an easy mindset to stay in, 
use it to escape your demons, you 
hide away and
run away until 

she catches up to you? 


                                                        once, we were alive 

plastic barbie bodies except 
fit for war. 
you're entitled to a different name but 
not a different identity. 

    can you feel it inside of you?  ...

50 follower special: my favorite lines from favorite pieces i've written+announcement

(in no particular order) my favorite lines from my favorite pieces+the stories behind them (please bear with me as i revisit my old pieces): 

"i am blind, pupil-less platinum eyeballs / i will stand, your legend speaks"
'a legend's lifespan' (came out of the simple urge to just 'write'. listened to 'sleeping at last' to get into the mood)

"Even if you're not as 'brilliant' as him doesn't mean you don't have something he doesn't."
—'senior year: a short story' (#PrompyCompy5. spent a few nights on this and i'm pretty proud of the results. first comp i ever entered)

"the shadow of your hand could be used as an umbrella. we grin under it like right fools, blowing bubbles through your long fingers and falling into the cracks of your bitten nails."
'where traces of you still remain, soft against the stars' (first attempt at 'descriptive' poetry after my angry vent phase)

"we coexist in different realities, but thank...

Writing Streak Week 9 Day 1


It was like something out of a Gorilla Glue commercial

I b r o k e us

"at one point, the world stopped 
for us 
and i 
    b r o k e 


when people say 
    "it never lasts long"  
they've never understood what it's like
to want it to last long 

fitting room: 
    my bitter limbic system trying on excuse after excuse
    because all this worthless comfort shoots my heart and 
my ribcage is made of
coat hangers and plastic waste

"did it all this mean nothing to you?"


does breaking apart now invalidate the time we spent together
must you insist on scumbling our memories
with a grey tinted sheen?  

obviously it meant something 
if i kissed you for so long under the shower rain 
if i wrote love poems to you while you were away

the moon has your eyes

watch the pastel sun float from east to west, i coat my fingers in clouds and smear it in a violet line
i wonder, if i paint my feelings into the sky, could i see you one more time?
donut glaze flaking off our lips, once upon a time we sat on this very bench, admiring the endless welkin 
but you're no longer here, and the cold crawls up my chest 

stand still under the shelter of the bus station, watching wheels roll by like days without you 
crowds of people pass and wave with a smile, gift a grin back but here i stay, waiting. 
the firmament glitters above me and i snap out of my reverie as the last bus of the day screeches to a halt. 
ah, it seems i was waiting for someone who couldn't come. i turn away and walk home by myself, the box of donuts stale in my hands. 

maybe with you beside...

a bad rap i wrote because i listened to agust d2

i'm filth? 

tell me lil somethin that i didn't know before~
tell me lil somethin about how to rule the world~
tell me lil somethin so that i can change the game~

just playin—
spare me from your hall of fame—


little flower boy

little flower boy, you 
had your eyes set on a better tomorrow, a 
delusional sort of love that can't be returned? 

    you gave away too much of yourself
and now there's nothing left

remember that time when you sinfully smiled and sank into that man's embrace? 
you loved that man, did you? 
    you loved that man, didn't you? 
clutching a rose in between your lips, the blood creeps down your chest and into your inflamed lungs, 
there's nothing left. 
there's nothing left. 

pursue the boy that seems to understand, a desperate attempt to not regret your life, 
to reach for a future where you could finally be happy, 
selfishly use that boy for your own goals. 
    he needs you, he needs you

once, you had a family in the garden. 
petals flutter away and annuals die, 
    little flower boy, would you say you are close to death? 
if you want to be someone, love that...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 8

Challenge Completed

*note: this is one day late and there are six because i was stupid and wrote 2 twice and didn't realize it until today. oh well, enjoy reading me boss other people around six times i guess. 







Writing Streak Week 8 Day 5


We were born to become kinder to other people, and maybe it's okay if that person is you. 

let fire engulf this magic island of ours

we were one, separate lives same hearts, secrets spilling like gasoline over hands
leave your fingerprints over my eyes so that i may never forget your name 
    'run away with me' 
you offered your hand to me a long time ago, lips streaked with a translucent grey
blindly, i reached for your embrace but
you weren't there, my oily palms grabbing a ghost 

where have you gone? i can't see you
please take me back to that 'magic island' where we laughed together 
before it burns to the ground, recall our rose colored past with vigor so that i can still see 'us' 
   'friends don't understand me anymore' 

your crown in flames, guilty as charged as i pour petrol over it 
please love me again so that i don't deflagrate in this desperate hatred 
please hold my hand so that i can still remember when we were once happy 
    'who's a liar?'


i'm stuck in limbo and i'm bad at writing good titles so here ya go

feel like i'm swallowing my throat from inside out 
i tap the edge of this translucent rainbow but it doesn't pop, suspended in reality limbo
sleep on top of my trophy case tonight. 
the days loop, a strange mobius strip and i seem to be developing in reverse
if i could be loved that would be great but every time i open my mouth, it turns from words to noise—
noisy, i cover my ears but keep my eyes pointed for 'escape'
a green monster curls up up around my ankles, skewering my feet to the ground with its soft tail, liquid pools around my ankles and drowns 
think i stopped growing in 2014
constant development is a scam, envy those who keep getting taller, even universe stick its tongue out and keeps expanding, a scam
keep running but i don't go anywhere, all i have is a green monster to keep me fed, curls its vines into my poisoned...

honesty tartare: rant

Would you eat honesty tartare if it was offered to you on a gold plate? 

Honesty is a sham, who said honesty makes someone attractive? haha just a sham, a complete sham. let me indulge myself in satire. 'course i don't have much to offer and i'll just keep picking away at my chest until i strike a golden insecurity to feed to other people subtly. maybe i'll slap a product label on it for satirical effect. 

Relatability? nah nah nah seven deadly fairies flutter around me until i've plucked their wings dry and there's nothing? what is this, deniability? no no no just hide yourself behind this manufactured timidity and 'it'll be a-okay' okay okay. 

Applaud those effortless displays of insecurity security because saying what you think is wrong is easier than saying what you know is wrong? you get what i'm saying? you have the courage to say you're selfish and prideful without being self loathing? finally step behind...

Writing Streak Week 8 Day 4


In the end, we're all just hypocrites trying to prove our self worth by weaving beauty from our pain.  

sunburnt shoulders smell sweeter than shadowed eyelids

sometimes i wish i could be someone else
stuck in a dark hole where no one knows my name, maybe i have already departed from my sense of 'self'
i kneel, content to live in this blacklisted daydream forever 

shield me from the bright light so my eyes won't burn away
all i can see are the shadows of my old friends suspended in the fire light
tell me, will these shadows acquire human skin? 

unable to identify with those dull hues reflected in our voices 
there's no such thing as being unique
so we come up with these delusions known as 'colors'

one day, pull me away from this cave while breaking my brittle wrist in your grip
is this the smell of burning flesh or the fragrance of a new beginning? 
what was once only a figment of my imagination, the sun scorches me to the ground 

trim my corners to this sleepwalking reality, my pupils undilate and...

Writing Streak Week 8 Day 3


Understanding someone for why they've done something is not the same as forgiving them for what they've done. 

Writing Streak Week 8 Day 2


All the things you dislike about other people, you see in yourself. 

you've left a shadow in me

sometime ago i was discovered—a diamond in the dust—by two golden hands 
feeling unheard, deaf ears looking over the hills i stand behind
you were there, propelling me into the atmosphere, a bright smile
dotting your lips

that was awhile ago so when your presence 
—a constant variable in my mood—
suddenly dropped out of my life 
i felt like i was grabbing air

there's no more bitterness, no 
now we're but two unrelated souls on the opposite sides of the universe 
you who i thought would always hold my back towards the sky
have now left me free falling 

i stay alive somehow, overusing my old tricks to new audiences 
although my heart pulsed with jealousy, you were always there 
so now, where do i go
without you as my guiding light? 

these words feel useless without you at my side 
i can't hear my own voice, everything i say has blurred into a sorrowful cacophony 
i don't know...

Writing Streak Week 8 Day 2


If you insist on speaking like a master while wearing a cloak of ignorance, who really is the fool here? 

we are forever young

if for one moment, the world could quiet down so we can pay respects to our fleeting lives
nothing can be grabbed with my small hands, nothing can remain the way it is 
let me wish upon a millennium so i can keep this one moment for myself 

a flask of tears i keep in my breast pocket, i wish i could keep wandering aimlessly 
even as mother earth urges us to move on, i want to stay still for a few minutes at least
and admire the cloud streaked sky

clasp our slowly-decaying fingers together, in a million years, we'll be nothing but dust
standing against endless precipitation, we can see nothing but 'later'
and feel nothing but 'now' 

watch you leave our sides, having finally found your definite direction 
your calloused feet brush the silt of the centuries and toil away at the future
i don't quite want to follow you just yet, and not quite yet, i...


my mouth has been thrice spliced through with a silver sewing thread 
eyeballs speared into with a metaphorical metal needle 
spindled down through the cemetery dirt 
heartbeat, steady
fermentation, ready 

kneecaps jabbing a foot deep in front of graveyard-ground headstones 
bony, fleshy plant material sprouting from my shoulder socket 
i've been waiting, torpid, for a unspecified number of millenniums 
still you do not rise 
and still, i can hear your cries

my ears have not yet been mothballed shut 
your posthumous breaths beat my eardrums bruised, a living nightmarish daydream
insanity burrows into the cavity of my cranium, killing crows and digging rows 
moss feeds and 
madness breeds 

a meaty ladyfinger soaked with unadulterated adoration continues to be bitten away
stony layer of sapphire skin can only subsist on such long lost fantasies 
or else i'd lose it all completely in to the wild 
under my tongue, i shake
and over my desperation, the earth quakes 

you, damned and decomposed beneath...

poor burning boy

poor burning boy, you're
stuck in the cold embrace of yesterday, a 
burning coal implanted into your shortsighted pupils 

don't you know the ones with fire in their blood—
    die young? 

poor burning boy, you
never wanted to hurt anyone at all, didn't you? 
all you wanted was a happy ending? 
a snapshot memory? 

fear the boy that welcomes you into his heart 
kiss the pain that inflicts your every wound, that violet necklace
is slowly strangling you, isn't it? 

    delusions of a ghost 
    that scooped out some of the tears crowding your lungs?  
    he is no longer here 

stupid dreaming boy, clinging 
to past dreams—
don't you know that the universe decided already—
that you would never be happy? 

turn this useless quest for a sick sense of comfort 
your family home? 
you never had a family to begin...

untouchable idol

funny, how you dip your fingers into the stratosphere daily
an azure ink calligraphy, experienced cloud climber
using your weathered hands—
you scale the sky 

yet here i am—not quite groveling at your feet 
hoping that sometime, a flash of my muddy fingertips might graze your holy gaze
and appear as

the dirty water tugs me down because although you've caught a glance of me
merely a fleeting moment of adoration that i hold tight to my silt-ridden chest 
"i am aware that this a product of your endless kindness. even still— "

i've stretched out these rubber limbs to their limits, i'm a simple
replication, mushroom mouth copy machine
while my mirror eater laughs at me in shards of glass
disappointment chews away at my torso 

respect is a pill i take unknowingly every day
pills are drugs, in most ways
we are bugs, undeniably roasting 
on the grill known as 'life' 

you are my idol, you...

Writing Streak Week 8 Day 1


If you live your life in eternal stagnation, you might as well be dead. 

presumptuous epiphany: maybe i'm not that special after all

maybe i had been a little bit presumptuous before—
obsessed with imagery and descriptions and auditory feedback, i try to live up to the mere shadow of someone above me. although i don't think my whole life up to this point was lived in vain, i think something was wrong with me all this time. 
all the praise i've garnered, all the respect i've paid and been paid, perhaps it meant nothing after all. screw my 'God-given' talent, screw my 'natural intelligence', screw my 'uniqueness', screw all of the special traits that make me different from anyone else, screw my self image, maybe—

those are all secondary to the choice i make right now.


'united under one dream': for what's going to come out tomorrow ;)

the world likes to hate them
for their 'privilege' 
for their names
for their appearances
for their emoji
for their existence 

let me tell you one thing 
the greater the light,
the greater the shadow 
so don't complain about 'privilege' when 
they've waded through twice as much dirt as you 

and why them in particular? 
the big three had always been 
is anyone complaining about that? 
no one is 
but you like to target these boys just because of their predecessors
don't you? 

rookies need time to grow, have you forgotten? 
have they ever even done anything wrong other than simply 
expectation are raised by you, yourself, not them, remember that 

their predecessors:
world tours and United Nations 
what does that have to do with them? 
are they not their own individuals
don't compare them please 

every award they won 
they deserved 
twitter can shut its mouth 

and tomorrow, their third mini album release
comeback ...

stardust human

picture perfect person 
don't you know you can rest? stay
for a while, let your heartbeat 
everything's going to be okay, just hold onto my hand 
and don't let go

pallid pill bottle person 
didn't you say it was time to sleep now?
don't force yourself just 
and breathe in time with my heavy chest
count my dark freckles for every bad thought you've dodged
dream while you're awake, darling 
i'm not going away just yet

there's strength in sadness 
merely existing brings you so much pain but
you're still here, aren't you?
stardust remains in your eyes from birth 
you're more than just a trophy, sitting on the wall 
you're more than what you've given, let me catch you when you fall
it's okay to have rose colored contacts when all you've ever seen is grey
it's okay

the world transforms us from our childhood 
and deposition 
maybe you weren't born to meet me ...

villainy and love are mutual beasts

you are a soft pastel clot on the inside of my coronary artery 
sweetness, your heart shaped lips and your monolids  
look like a baby chipmunk 

if i can look at the clouds in the same way we used to 
maybe somehow, i'll be enveloped in your embrace again 
a shiny hot chocolate sheen haunts my dreams like a ghost 

revolutionary, we were meant to change the world
and that night, then the flames burned brighter than the moon, 
did you happen to think that too? 

blood seeps under the cracks of our fingernails and 
unlike me, who weeps at dawn with every life taken 
you stand tall and nowhere to be seen 

for every woman that screamed at me to let her children go 
there was a curl in your lips earned, like soft currency 
i didn't hesitate until the next morning 

when they arrived, young and idealistic
i saw the ways your eyes changed 
like a flower being...

disconnect (if only understanding could be forced)

The sky is so pretty
it’s blue and beautiful 
i wish i could keep my eyes on it but 
your face is all red
around your eyes it’s black
it’s so sad 
i can’t stop staring and holding your cold hand
point me towards your heart
i plead
i’ll buy some paint
Just tell me where it hurts

your smile is fake and heavy 
a symbol of my own incompetence
i wish i could hold you
the way your pain could 
i wish i could understand you
the way your pain could 
i wish i knew you
like your pain could
i claim im an artist 
but i don’t know how to paint over this shade of black 

your smile is ephemeral 
i know our love is too
it doesn’t make it hurt any less 
misunderstandings start relationships 
they end them too 
i wish it could be helped
when your hips curve away from mine
and your shoulders curl up ...

memories i can't remember

unremarkably, i've lived for a little more than a decade
doing what? living, just living
nothing big, no grand revelations or man vs world story arcs
just living

my life cannot be put as a collection of memories
nor a collection of events 
simply, my life is an overarching competition of ideals  
a concept i won't understand until i'm gone

writing creative nonfiction is difficult 
i can't recall what i felt like in that moment 
it's like i was nightwalking
my entire life

the future lies in my dreams 
and it strangles my past memories violently
bury those less-than-traumatic memories
so they won't resurface in the morning

everything i've done terribly wrong 
and everything i want to become
a stalemate war inside my chest
so i choose not to acknowledge either of them 

i've chosen to ignore my memories instead of face them 
call me a coward, i don't mind it
if you say that, it means you've understood
a part of...

Writing Streak Week 7 Day 5


don't be content hating yourself
tracking the world with your self made dirt 
no matter how hard it is, pick your shoes up and walk 
no matter how hard it is, we will endure

the universe wears away at our sandpaper skin
i will continue until only my skeleton remains
if only to give my loved ones' peace of mind
i will learn to love myself 


mushroom mouth and mirror eater #champion

my vanity, stained with blush puffs and lipstick lines 
cheeks, fleshy meat material, smeared a mainstream brand of sophistication
play rock-paper-scissors with my reflection
crunch goes a button of saccharine fruit flavored joy 
my cheeks are crawling with cavities
bloodshot teeth, gummy smile
i have eight different eyes on my forehead and all of them can agree
    "to be unique is the greatest glory" 

blink in my blackened stardust contact lenses 
    "for poetic effect" 
play hopscotch on a couple of neon toadstools, they explode under my toes
    "nope nope nope not this one-"  
pluck a special mushroom by its stem, my fingernails dig into rubbery flesh 
open my mouth to 3cm, stretching my sloppy makeup to its limits
    "cracks of skin extend past your lips"  
and tilt my head back, like those old paintings where
eve is holding an apple with two fingers and the fungi  ...

lofi hip hop and good moods

gloss skies reawaken around this hour, we
stumble through small town sidewalks and cracked concrete
airpod in each ear, the bus has left us long behind 
listening to lofi hip hop

the tip of my pen taps a dot of ink onto cream paper
sitting here, doing nothing all day 
while lazing out the window 
there's nothing i want to change

maybe today's just not the day to write something heavy 
instead, your little button nose and kitten eyes 
keep me awake comfortably
roll around in the cool sheets, the rabbits twinkle from the moon

it's time for us to cradle these dying flowers by the palm 
spark a hot light beneath the canopy and 
watch them fly away 
your hand is smooth and warm, like a blanket

maybe today the orange juice sun will grant us some mercy 
clutching each others' shoulder we stagger through the afternoon 
fluffy clouds i want to eat, instead i bite your finger 

for the graduating class of 2020

will our wings touch tomorrow? 

infatuated with life 
tiptoeing around glass 
pick up that penny from the ground

do you love-? 

our hearts and souls 
alkaline metals 
suspended in oil 

you know when summer will come to an end? 

ice cream bars dripping on my shirt
pinched between two sticky fingers
i drop the popsicle stick onto the ground

when did you decide for yourself? 

sincere blue screen 
pixels glare at you 
pretend to move on without an end

what happens next? 

deep melancholia 
a graduation hat made out of cardboard
and blue construction paper 

what happens now? 

your room 
and sterilized without warning 

what will change?

the world 
a spinning top 
the difference is- 

are you moving on? 

clings to our eyelashes like a fresh morning dew at 1PM 
and you rub it out 

you are- 

changing moving living on 
blink once twice again 
and your childhood is already over 

what have you lost? 

a chance to...

Writing Streak Week 7 Day 4


the small things in the midst of the big picture 
my eyes are tempted by the shine
if i could simply dip my feet into that crystal clear water
then i think everything will turn out fine 

(but like seriously, koi ponds? those water art exhibits? exquisite.) 


to the writers at Write the World: thank you

there are four basic layers of the earth, taught by grade 5. they are called, in order from the top to the bottom: the crust, the mantle, the outer core, and the inner core. 
are you going to be moody forever? bite into a candy and glass lollipop. your tongue is half red and half sweet. you wonder which one you can taste more. a candy floss persona melts once it touches water. you drown it in milk and drink. artificial food coloring dyes your mouth colorful. it tastes sweet and fake. you lick your lips. 

you feel claustrophobic when there are too many tabs pulled up on your pc. you sacrifice a few that are unnecessary—minimum effort—but procrastination prevents you from getting rid of any more. your work is notably more high quality when you're under pressure but that’s just an excuse to laze around. your dad comes around and asks you if...

independent loser

cup your fleshy earlobe to my lips
condensation in your eardrum
harsh breaths, near death panting
can you hear me? 

am i someone to be pitied? 
when i say that my writing isn't good
it's my fault, not yours
so spare me the comforting words 

a sparse 26 letters can convey so much yet so little
there are ugly parts of ourselves no one wants to admit
honestly is rare, metaphors are not 
hide your true intentions behind pulchritudinous slang 

we're fine with misunderstanding other people forever
as long as the truth is harsher
disclaimers disclaimers
i'm tired of keeping up this image

envious of people more successful
call it an inferiority complex i don't mind
a character flaw 
but that's already deeper than you've tried to go on your own

no one wants to know everything 
and that's not your fault
don't blame yourself for human instinct 
so i won't blame you if you don't read this 

i wish...

it goes both ways: mutualism

*please check the message box before reading 

you flick my bottom lip with those 
porcupine nails of yours 
i open my mouth wider
as you shove your words in 

even my bed smells like nosebleed now
with your cold breath moistening my nape 
your limbs splayed across the sheets, asleep 
i long to pick you apart, sweetheart  

tuck a few bills into your collarbone 
roll out of the bed 
i turn the temperature a few degrees down 
just the way you hate it

bored with my lover 
all that's in my brain is you 
with your wilted rose perfume
and sinful smile

your teeth graze my ear and bite
you never know when to take it easy
i lick the scratches you left behind 
on my heart 

your candy lips purse as i hand you the money again 
thank you for your time 
never goes farther than that
and that's how i like it 


Writing Streak Week 7 Day 3


attention that i earn by myself
want for myself 
(not when others push me)
might be the sweetest thing of all

a legend's lifespan

sandy dust sun has cried liquid from my cuts 
trumpets' horn and bloodshot eyes
gladiator has fallen but
i still live 

simply my name is 
whatever you have given to me 
the fragrance of blood and scent of hardship
glorified through my dying bones

a casket made of dirt but buried in gold
my ghost inspires, not haunts
barefoot on a tower of script
i repeat

draw ichor from my nonexistent heart 
and paint it on my papery skin  
i am blind, pupil-less platinum eyeballs 
i will stand, your legend speaks

light streaming down from the sky
if i draw strength i am happy
if i am worshiped i am not 
a meteor house built in my name

hands clasped in a prayer line
i am glad to live for humankind 
my spirit flutters over the deathlike eyelids
of a last breath's final greeting to oxygen 

though the world has changed, morphed, melted
my fingers are still rough with callouses 

Xuèyáng 血羊

    *Please read message box before reading.
(Music suggestion: 2nd mvt of Symphony No. 10 in E minor by Shostakovich)
    Once there existed fearsome beasts that crowded the mountains. They were, in fact, so crowded that they found it more convenient to eat each other than the actual grass on the ground. Two horns on both sides of their heads, each sharpened off beautifully as if a master carver had whittled them down himself. And their teeth, maybe they had been flat once, but as the centuries passed by, they slowly acuminated into tools more suited towards cannibalism. Any human that happened to wander upon the horrific scene of ‘mealtime’ would never be able to sleep soundly again.
    Of course, with all that eating, the beasts got fat and strong. It was survival of the fittest at its best. Humans like to brag that they had taken down the monsters through poaching and their own power, but that...

Writing Streak Week 7 Day 2


hear me out before you call me crazy and a fanatic 
when i fall into a fandom, i fall
into that rabbit hole
the only thing keeping me from going insane
is fanfiction 


my cherry blossom boy 
pupils split eight ways, a pinkened bud emerging 
beauty hurts, my flower petal, tears are fertilizer 

why is it that the most beautiful things never last long
there are petals in your throat, burning 
there is blood on your lips, churning

grow until your face is only flowers 
blindness is beautiful and you are

your facial features start dripping down 
candle wax scalds your thighs 
salt tears spit in the liquid 

cherry blossom boy
grow you up quick pluck you down quick 
you flutter down 


Writing Streak Week 7 Day 1


no need to elaborate on the details 
we can craft profound from a few words 
arpeggios under our eardrums
spittin venom, soothing ballads
chills down my spine 

everything's wrong (for us, baby)

    (we flipped the world like this-)
you pour ink down your throat 
lick it from the floor, gargle your vocal cords
we stagger, intoxicated, across the concrete floor
the grains stabbing holes into our bare feet

rub aloe's like fire on my cheeks
smear poison ivy juice on my face
tears run up my face and into my eyes
the water's like sugar in my wound

talk around me in riddles 
spread brown sugar over my eyes and i'm blinder than i was
drips onto my tongue, like silt over my teeth
it tastes like dirt 

a sort of sickly orange dyed into the sky
scientists shot the sun purple a few decades back
taste the cotton candy clouds, my canines chomp down 
on your dreams, i eat them all

    (that day-)
when we crossed our pinkies together 
collapsing cliffside view, beautiful wreckage 
we were young, eyes wide and saying things like 
'i don't wanna die' 


TDM teaser: novel first draft, first chapter

boy, your eyes like embers
let me set you aflame 

boy, emerald birthright scarring your chest
a lichen loves better than you 

Doll, memory-less, scentless 
can't you hear her, who calls your name? 

Doll, your hands are dirty
can't you see it? the red in your hair...



happy mothers' day

'm not good at these things 
like outward gratitude and 
waking up at 7AM to make breakfast  

the sun rises early these days, maybe summer will wash us all away
trust the tasty video 
wake up you idiot and get to work

pancake batter looks like wet manilla construction paper 
forgot to let the buttermilk curdle (old lemon juice) 
butter solidified in cold milk 

blame me if it looks burnt
i haven't been conscious this early since school 
i can't even see halfway in front of me (now too)

dishwashing liquid vanished like my sleep schedule 
it's only half empty when it's your fault
hey, butter doesn't just come off, okay

eggs, scrambled once, twice, salted butter, salty eggs
please stop doing taichi chuan outside and eat your breaky
grandma, she's a mom too okay 

in the end there was too much batter
i might as well make breakfast for everyone else too then 
three eggs crack into the bowl,...

why kids shouldn't have political opinions: opinion

    *Disclaimer: this is an opinion piece. Opposing opinions in the comment section will be respectful and civil to each other and to myself. 
    *I am also not referring to 'everyone' that falls under the ages 13-15. This is just an 'overgeneralization' for effect and for a point. It would be a hassle to keep writing 'some' and 'most' and it would decrease the meaning I am trying to convey. If you do not partake in the actions I describe below, then you do not need to tell me, I know and respect you, and on the other side, I am not accusing anyone of partaking in the actions I describe below either. Please keep an open mind. 
    *This is raw and unedited. Please alert me if anything is offensive— which does not hold the same meaning as overgeneralized— and I will either edit this piece or remove it completely. 

    In my profile message...

i wish i were gay

sweaty newborns
soaking the sterile sheets with a clear sheen
with a bloody umbilical snip 
enter, us 

our childhoods, the jar overfilling with 
sunny smiles and immaturity 
when our biggest problem was
figuring out what barbie dvd to watch 

tugging each other by the wrist
nothing was clear cut back then 
we were merely existing like wet clay
easy to shape, mold, change, influence, blind

friends, best
with your floral detergent clinging to my waist 
and feet pointed towards each other 
we ran forward without knowing what was to come 

that night, when the stars touched down 
we were only thirteen but i should've known 
the way you hugged my head to your chest 
the way you pinched my beauty mark 

when times got bad
when the mother and the father were no more a unit
you held me and i
i accepted it all like a dense fool 

you always paid special attention...

inferiority: superiority: love

guitar chords wilt under your hands
you spin the world around the tip of your fingers  
hold me, for if i falter for a second, you will fly away 

if we could walk on water
could i hike across the pacific ocean
to you? 

if you are the sun and i, the moon
is it fair for me to shine using your light? 
even brighter? 

a failure with a genius off my arm 
a coat hanger? no 
i'd be the coat hanger  

do you pay dirt any heed?  
their muddy looks and narrowed stares at me
if they're dirt, what am i? 

no way to choose who you love
yet i question the stars 
why me? just the ant on the ground to your brilliant light

let me make up with your cracks 
with what little glue i have 
it's not gorilla but it'll work

if you collapse sobbing in my arms 
let me kiss you deeply...

i wonder if i could love you

my previous encounter with love 
yeah i guess it was kinda average
i thought he was pretty
but he told me to stop looking
so i did

oh it hurt good
so good i almost cried and my chest hurt
it hurt good while it lasted
cuz i'm over him now

so now i'm here
wondering what it would feel like to love again
wondering if that 'love' 
can somehow make me look forward to 

a stupid idealist
i wonder if i'm more in love with the idea of love
than love itself 
i don't remember thinking this much a few months ago
when i thought he was beautiful

and i wish we could choose the people we have a crush on
cuz there's this guy
and i love talking to him and he said he does too
he's sincere and funny and sarcastic and i wish
i wish i could like him back

but even if i...

Writing Streak Week 6 Day 5: Talia


"I thought you could do better, Talia." 

"I'm disappointed in you, Talia." 

"I was expecting you to come out on top, Talia." 

Not anymore. 

If you stacked all her trophies and awards, it'd be over ten feet tall. 

But not anymore. 

Talia threw her wine glass as hard as she could at the wall. The glass screamed as it splintered against the sour paint, and she screamed too. 

There was glass all over the floor. Like little knives, they sliced into the pads of her feet. Talia clutched her head. 

"What am I even doing here?!" 

She had no dreams. No direction in life. Where was her future, buried in bills and trade agreements? 

Talia was nothing beyond her studious persona after all, and she didn't even have that anymore. 

She glanced at a photo frame in the corner. 

Kira, who had long grown out of the rival phase. Who supported her. 

Aaron, who was outwardly cold but actually...

the end is near: the point past adulthood

curl my fingers into a peace sign and raise it to tomorrow. 
maybe we'll live a few years longer 
if we're together

we're two little birdies floating in space
our twin orbits, without a sun, supernova 
you are my star

steal a little bit of oxygen from each other everyday 
your cherry flavored lips against mine 
your bottom lip is so soft, i want to eat it

our insignificant lives against the universe
a dystopian needle in our dimples 
against the cruel wind, we tremble like leaves. 

if i hold your hand tightly
will you not fly away? 
your seafoam-scented hair flaps in the wind 

wondering what makes us special to keep alive in a earth colored cage
just tomorrow you could be struck by lightning
and we wouldn't be special anymore 

there's a hole in the sky 
our apathetic eyes scan over it, pathetic
what does darkness have on us?  

autumn leaves us like an old...

to the writers at Write the World: thank you

there are four basic layers of the earth, taught by grade 5. they are called, in order from the top to the bottom: the crust, the mantle, the outer core, and the inner core. 

are you going to be moody forever? bite into a candy and glass lollipop. your tongue is half red and half sweet. you wonder which one you can taste more. a candy floss persona melts once it touches water. you drown it in milk and drink. artificial food coloring dyes your mouth colorful. it tastes sweet and fake. you lick your lips. 

you feel claustrophobic when there are too many tabs pulled up on your pc. you sacrifice a few that are unnecessary—minimum effort—but procrastination prevents you from getting rid of any more. your work is notably more high quality when you're under pressure but that’s just an excuse to laze around. your dad comes around and asks you if you're...

Writing Streak Week 6 Day 4: Ari

Past #2

"You failed?" Ari asked incredulously, legs swinging off the high ledge. 

"Yeah. So what?" Talia snapped, angrily serving a ball over the net. Ari hummed in thought. 

"You don't do that very often, do you?" She remarked offhandedly. Talia paused.

"-----" She muttered. Ari leaned in. 

"What did you say?" She called. Talia turned to her, eyes blazing. 

"What's it to you?!" She screamed, throwing the ball up and hitting it as hard as she could. The ball rocketed into the net. Ari scowled. 

"What, just because you aren't the best, you get all prissy about it?" She shouted. Talia clenched her teeth, stonily retrieving the ball in silence. "Don't ignore me!" 

"I'm not the best," Talia spat. "Everyone just keeps saying that." 

Ari scoffed, "Like you weren't enjoying every second of it."


Talia breathed in. 

"Get out," She said quietly. Ari blinked in disbelief. 

"This is our house. I am your sister," She nodded.

Talia's fist...

where traces of you still remain, soft against the stars


the shadow of your hand could be used as an umbrella. we grin under it like right fools, blowing bubbles through your long fingers and falling into the cracks of your bitten nails. the weight of the world rests on your knuckles, and when the sun smothers us in light, i press my lips to it like a gentle morning shower. 

human feet aren't meant to be barefoot, but we figure it's fine if we ditch the socks for now. there's friction between our toes and a slip between the pads of our feet. like playing scales with your appendages, like tiptoeing through broken glass, and falling flatfooted, we run across the sky and play hopscotch with lost kites. 

there's a beating, bleeding organ in there somewhere, but smiles and spiced ginger tea are the closest we want to get to it. sleeping with that soft metronome in your left ear is both the most uncomfortable...

Writing Streak Week 6 Day 3: Aaron

Future #1

Tomorrow at three. Don't be late! 

Aaron frowned at the group chat. When had Kira ever been excited for a monthly get together? 

When he walked in, he got it. 


"What are you doing here?" Aaron demanded angrily. Talia stiffened in her seat. 

"Do you have a problem, Aaron?" Kira narrowed her eyes. Idris worried his lip. Aaron ignored her, still glaring at Talia.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" He gritted his teeth. "And you think you can just come waltzing back in?" 

Talia averted her eyes. "I can leave if you want-" 

"Don't!" Idris said panickedly. Kira nodded in agreement. Aaron looked between the both of them in disbelief. 


Red tears. Therapy. A nearly dead friend in his arms. Insomnia. The splitting of them. 

Because of her. 

"I can't do this."

He left. 


Aaron had tried to help them. He had tried to save them. He had tried, tried, and tried. 


the pretense to being extraordinary

raise your hand if you're gifted/talented
if you were separated from the rest of your kindergarten class 
if you were told that you were 'different' from them 
if, for a very short time, you were the best

so tell me now
middle schoolers 
high schoolers
hey, what was the difference anyways? 

'help me with my homework please' 

content with being 'better' than everyone else
developing a 'uniqueness complex' 
their expectations which they throw like darts
are now piercing my shoulders in place 

someone that is reliable and dependable 
but still a little silly
i built up that mask
with nothing but mud

seventh grade algebra 
all honors classes
all varsity electives
not bad at sports either

that's me!
i'm the best!
the best

tell me teacher teacher 
after i mark another 100
grinning and bumbling like the idiot i'm not
do i impress you? 

my naturally dislikable personality 
coming off too strong 
too bitter like coffee ...

attention seeker

i noticed i really have a problem 
when dealing with sites like this 
when in times like these
i find myself fixated on that red notification button

the longer you steep coffee the more bitter you get 
my eyes hurt but i can't stop
staring at notifications 

i'm an attention seeker
no sugarcoating  
i should be writing for myself but
i still want others to read too

i'm someone meant to be pitied
picking my words like lovers 
i guess i was never the one to maintain a secret relationship

the most inoffensive words i choose but 
i want to argue with someone so i don't feel
emotionally burnt out

developing a complex
being unsatisfied with life in general 
but at the same time not wanting anything to change
if only that star would light up 

the few that are reading this
you aren't obligated to read it but you are 
you don't have to like this  ...

Writing Streak Week 6 Day 2

Past #1

Unfamiliar school hallways. Unfamiliar smell. Unfamiliar classrooms. Unfamiliar kids. 

Familiar subject. Familiar team. Familiar pencil. 

The joys of an academic school meet. She let herself enjoy those aspects first, marveling through the large glass windows of the sunset. 

But once the host stepped onto the podium, it stopped. 

The room hushed. She held her breath as she waited for names, ears perked. 

"Talia Xing." 

That was the name she was listening for, which meant- 

"Kira Wagner." 




Kira was numb as she stumbled her way up, accepting the gold medal. She couldn't stop a smile from crawling onto her face. 

"I beat Talia."

The smartest girl in the grade. The homework helper. The best

And Kira was just some random transfer student. 

"Congratulations," She said to Talia, puffing up her chest so that her medals jingled across her chest. To her surprise, Talia smiled wholeheartedly at her. 

"Congrats for the win," She said warmly.



loop my arms around your waist and


honey sweet molasses girl just


there's syrup in your stems 

it's burning through my skin 



you're my succulent 


tell me somethin i don't already


your spines are sharp, it's like a shark


my mind's nothing but a minuend    


Writing Streak Week 6 Day 1: Idris

Future #1

Idris entered the coffee shop quietly, biting the skin off his lip and shuffling lethargically towards the counter.

The barista leaned forward as he repeated his order for the second time: "Mocha with soy milk please. To go for Idris." He thumbed over a few bills, not caring if they got his name wrong again. 

As he waited for his drink, Idris made himself small in an empty chair, sighing. 

"Idris!" A few minutes had passed.  

Idris blinked his eyes open, unfolding himself from his position and padding towards the counter. He murmured a slight "thanks'' before away. 

That was the routine.

But he saw something he wasn't supposed to. 


His mocha splattered to the ground as the person in question whirled around in shock. 

"Is that you?" 

Idris wanted to ask, but he couldn't speak. She was right there, and he couldn't speak even though it was the one thing he needed to do. 

There was...

things I don’t understand

i'm here to lay down my body
and i'm here to be honest 

i'm one pretentious person
who likes to pretend they understand everything
and maybe this piece more of a statement than a question
cuz i'm conceited like that (it's time to knock me down a peg) 
i hate looking into comment sections
(the news is the worst)
and seriously 
who's right and who's wrong? 

why do we keep bickering over stupid things? 
people who don't even know each other 
might they meet in real life and fall in love
but they gotta duke it out over politics first 

there's no need to be personal with politics
are we really this uncivilized these days? 
did 2016 really change us this much? 
why are we fueling our injected venom? 

what are y'all doing? 
they're right when they say 
common sense isn't so common anymore
like seriously, it's right in front of you

are y'all gonna keep hating  ...

i don't care that i'm in quarantine

did my title lure you in? 
i'm trying to get better at them i promise
it's just that
yeah i don't really care 

in the light of recent events 
it seems everyone's fighting for something
or offering hope 
they're all just so passionate

i admire y'all
who are still fighting 
still blazing still flaming still shining
you want to get out, right? 

do you miss it? 
the fresh air on your skin 
the squeaky school hallways? 
talking to your friends? 

well i don't really
i mean it'd be great  to see some of my friends again 
but i spend everyday like quarantine (still can't spell it) 
started yesterday 

i seem to care a lot less than everyone
the truth is 
i'm really thriving here
i don't want to go outside anymore

overthinking overthinking
over and over again 
it's easier to just disappear from society completely
so i don't talk myself into apologizing for stupid things

the outside world is so mean ...

Writing Streak Week 5 Day 5


'tis the last day
time to tie up your loose ends 
time to move on from the weekly blur of teachers' words
the more time i spend in quarantine, the less i care about these things 
and if i blink, the week might be over already

when you dedicate yourself to writing a novel

writing a book is like
dating someone
and saying things like 'i'm so clever!' at 3 AM
only to find out you wrote the entire chapter in the wrong tense 

why do i write better in the night than the day?
oh i get it 
equivalent exchange
i traded away my grammar

a long term relationship with words on a page
the characters start feeling like your children
proofreading and doubting yourself
'is this really as good as it reads?'

pacing is hard
like really really hard
what are the stakes anyways? 
i just wanna write romance

deciding between a trilogy or a single 
before even finishing the first one? 
wanting to write a song for your characters? 
nah i'll just save a playlist or smth

who's ooc 
who's not
are they even interesting 
i can't tell cuz i love them all

i don't wanna proofread 300 pages 
maybe i should've done it gradually
i know i'll slice a few...

Writing Streak Week 5 Day 4


'm not doing enough work
keep moving and moving and moving and moving
factoring ax^2+bx+c is not enough why am i stationary
and TDM is growing stale in Google Docs
have you caught on? 


i want 
seventeen different kinds of ink 
a pen for every day of the month
and prettiest journals in Barnes and Noble 

i want to
pierce my ears
get a chrysanthemum tattoo on my shoulder
and wear only analog watches

i want 
a cozy nook for me to sleep in
a beddy's bedding bed
and a bowl made by me myself and i 

i want to
live without limits
buy all the things i want
and mouth off without consequences

i want 
a video essay about my writing
a WatchMojo video for me
and news articles to be written about 

i want to 
have my face in the newspapers
have a movie in my name
and see a film of my novel

i want to 
humble brag about my accomplishments
be loved by everyone
and offer hope to the hopeless

i want 
and love from people i don't even know

i want to 
ascend to the top


Maybe if we keep taking more than we give back. 

They'll stop giving back completely. 

Writing Streak Week 5 Day 3

the midpoint of the week
we're allowed to feel relieved now
school is going soon on its halfway path
sticky hallways, oversized binders, math homework, yelling coaches, orchestra rehearsal-
oh, but there's none of that anymore, is there? 

Fragments: Gold

*Due to malfunctions, it has been shown they are capable of rebellion. However, all such attempts have been quelled, and the instigators have been removed. 


Pink hair. 

Golden eyes. 



"Who am I?"

**It has been proven that the SOUL FIBRES of a dying SUZUKI may be used and transplanted into a DOLL body in the last minutes before death.





Dying fragments. 

"There’s this feeling in my chest, that I don’t belong in their plastic body."

A miracle of artificial life. The discovery of a century. The key to... 


**It has been proven that the SOUL FIBRES of a dying SUZUKI may be used and transplanted into a DOLL body in the last minutes before death.




If her hands-


"Who am I?"

"Who am I?" 

He has passed. But he is back. 

But is he really? 

"WHO AM I?!" 

She/He/They scream. 

This discovery should never have...

Writing Streak Week 5 Day 2


An in between day with lots of baggage
A MSG grade 
And a fix-it Zoom meeting 
Ugh I'm too tired to pick up my pen
And procrastination gets heavier by the day

senior year: a short story

    "What do you mean you're leaving?!" The girl parks her bike at the edge of the curb, eyes wide and mouth gaping.   
    "We're seniors in high school, Rowan." The boy sighs, skidding to a stop behind her. "Obviously people are going to leave."  
    "But I thought you said you wanted to stay in the city!" Rowan whines. 
    "That was a year ago!" 
    "It was only a year! 
    "I'm not going to argue with you about this," He huffs, pedaling in front of her. "Let's get popsicles." 
    "You can't just bribe me with popsicles every time you want me to forget about something, Wren!" Rowan grumbles loudly, quickly releasing her brakes and catching up to him. 
    "It works. I'll even buy," Wren calls behind him. Rowan's about to shout something back, but she stops her words mid-mouthful, pausing for a moment. 
    "Get me Häagen-Dazs!" She shouts, racing to get back in front of him. He glances at her in disbelief.  ...

by the light of the moon #PrompyCompy1

if he saves a girl at sunset
and breaks her from her doom
you will never repay your debt
by the golden light of the moon

if you wed the boy at midnight
and break a silver spoon, 
may your futures both be bright 
by the glowing light of the moon

if you watch him tear his hair away
but smile at your bloom
tell him it's gonna be okay 
by the terrible light of the moon 

if you weep alone at starlight
above a weathered tomb,
you should've known that he was not alright
by the plaintive light of the moon

if you're seeking for your own salvation
and want to see him soon, 
he's waiting at the edge of the world
by the stolen light of the moon

if you tell the welkin of your past 
and hum a little tune
maybe they'll let you see him again
by the longing light of the moon 

if he sees...

Writing Streak Week 5 Day 1


I check my emails before I'm even fully awake
And pile up the tabs on my desktop
Read the messages from the friends that are
Somehow conscious before 10:00
Ah, I've got a lot of work to do. 

'she', 'he', and the breaking of 'we' #PrompyCompy3

    "I have to tell you something." 
    A sliver of wind blows by, and they both knew it was bound to happen one day. One boy, one girl, and the connect between the both of them can be easily intersected by a breeze. 
    They stand in the same place where it all began. It isn't a normal day because they're staring straight ahead right at and through each other's eyes. There's no harsh light, no flower petals floating about. The universe is trying to make it easier for them. 
    Her eyes are brown, maybe about the same color as Pilot Iroshizuku Tsukushi ink. He thinks brown is underrated. Always being pinned down by the brighter blue. However, there's no other color he would rather surround himself with. He makes his home in those milk hot chocolate eyes. 
    His eyes are grey. Specifically, J. Herbin 1670 Anniversary Stormy Grey....

Writing Streak Week 4 Day 5


by all means 
i'm the epitome of an ungrateful human being
always flittering quickly from second to second
never staying long enough to appreciate anything

and it's a bit hard for me to say it out loud
and it always looks like i'm holding in my frustration 
and it seems like i always explode at the wrong times
and i guess that's my fault 

but since i can't say it out loud
and because i'm always holding in things i want to say
and because i'm always exploding at the wrong time
thank you 

for giving birth to me
and feeding me
and buying me things
and being there

you'll never hear it come from my mouth
but thank you
mom and dad
i love you

Writing Streak Week 4 Day 4


To instant ramen packs that keep me alive. I wonder if Hmart does delivery. 

rest (For Earth Day)

again the day has come
when we scream for our planet without end
when we fight for her 
when we show we're grateful 

i’ve lived on this Earth for a couple of years already
a decade and then some
i think i’ve had enough time to appreciate it a little bit
even if i haven’t even touched 10% of it

carpooling for ice cream tickets
and picking up trash 
things have changed since elementary school 
but the Earth still lives

i think we’re quick to point out how something is dying
before seeing how it’s living first
distrust born out of this blindness
by them refusing to acknowledge that anything’s wrong

Earth Day is drawing near
but there’s either no headspace to fight 
or too much 
this frightening world is changing too hard, too fast

we’re all boiling 
in stomach acid
in our own thought bubbles 
but it’s gonna be okay

even if your signs are down
even if your...

Writing Streak Week 4 Day 3


To the internet, which keeps my little makeshift world afloat. If I could hide inside of the search bar forever, I would be happy. 

coffee and tea and first meetings


He's the type of person that bites into a 100% dark chocolate bar and enjoys every bite. He's the type of person that drinks exclusively dark roast coffee, and he's been eating unripened bananas for the taste since he was five. 

Sue him, he really liked bitter things. 

So, it's a normal school day, right? People make fun of him for once being in a relationship with someone older than him, and they dump a bucket of water on him. Honestly, he's more mad about that because he just washed his uniform yesterday. 

Anyways, the day's obviously going downhill, and he's shivering because he left his gym uniform at home. There's really one thing he can do. 

Grab a nice, hot coffee. 

He trudges down a few rows of stairs, just to get to his favorite second floor vending machine, where the coffee tastes cheap but is at least more bitter than the sweet abominations on any other floor....

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition 2020

my love (and belated farewell) letter to writing

when i was just 9 you met me at the edge of the world
a predestined amalgamation
i clutched my mechanical pencil as you held out your hand
i took it slowly
it was warmer than i had expected

the catalyst for our first meeting was a mandatory award grabbing event
we were forced towards each other
but somehow we fit
if it be by the hands of others i thank them sincerely
for bringing us together

and later when i cradled the trophy in my arms 
you were there by my side 
i looked at you 
and really saw you for the first time
i smiled at you and you smiled back

you were like a flower
an indescribable, alluring beauty
i wished i could keep you here forever
hugging my childhood to my chest

i fell into you hard and deep
staying up late at night to talk to you
the next year when the competition came...

Writing Streak Week 4 Day 2


To my bed, which carries the weight of the world and me. 

The East Asian Clans: Section 10, the Suzuki Clan

The Suzuki Clan

Residence: The ruins of SHINJUKU, NIHON

Physical Characteristics: Violet eyes and hair. 

Special Characteristics: Born with larger and thicker SOUL FIBRES. For more on SOUL FIBRES, go to SECTION 1, PAGE 21. 

Magic: Capable of SOUL FIBRE removal due to their enlarged size. Specializes in implanting SOUL FIBRES into specialized apparatuses for more efficient and powerful use.

Crown Achievement: the creation of DOLLS, fully autonomous and functional humanoid machines. This is the only magic discovery of its kind, and no other creation has been more effective for its use. 

DOLLS: DOLLS are capable of free thought, free motion, and free speech. Due to the use of one's own SOUL FIBRES and the memories contained in such fibres, DOLLS are exact copies of their creators and will not display any other personality traits than that of their originals. Utilizing the SUZUKI's signature material, they are practically invulnerable to attack or strain. They do not need to eat, sleep, or...

Writing Streak Week 4 Day 1


To the bottles of ink resting on my table and the pens in which the ink is occupying. 

interior happiness

Quite frankly, even though he practically lived with plants, he preferred to be inside. It was safe, quiet, and there were less chances of getting attacked. Sitting next to the window with a cup of coffee as rain ran sixteenth notes over the glass? Absolute serenity. Getting an unwanted shower and laundry service? Not so peaceful. 

But these days, strangely, he found himself outside more often. 

It was partially his choice of course. Walls and doors could've made a house, but they've never been a home. Heck, he had told to his aloe vera plant 'good morning' more than he had his own family. Too bad he was miles away from that plant now. 

The dew sparkled off the grass. He licked it off with his finger, plucking a few helpful herbs from the ground. His muffler flapped in the nice wind. The sun was warm, not hot, and the breeze was cool, not cold. It was truly a beautiful...

exterior happiness

He liked the outside. In his opinion, humans were made to stay outside at all times, to feel the fresh air against their cheeks and to breathe in the sun's exhales. If he could, he'd sleep outside whether it be clear, raining, or even snowing. It was his 'safe place'. 

But now, he was inside. Trapped. For 'safety reasons'. 

According to his parents, the world had ended a few decades ago. 
"There used to be national pride." His mother told him bitterly, like she was there. 
"There used to be trust." His Dad had mused. He chose to listen more to him than his mother. For now though, even though the whole world knew something was wrong, it was fine. Magicians would continue wrecking the Earth, and the Non-magicians would continue to hate them helplessly. 

For some reason, that didn't sit well with him. The fever inside his ribcage twisted uncomfortably, and he resisted the urge to hurl. There was...

Writing Streak Week 3 Day 5

Lack of sincereity 

Acquaintances come easily, friendship does not. 

Five Line Fiction

the distant past: you

A warm yellow sky, a cozy cabin flush against the trees, and an electric brush of the fingertips. A floating golden lantern, a touch on the lips, and a sweet coffee. 

"We'll meet again that that time." 

A blue city, a cold office, and a bundle of chrysanthemums at the door. A dead mouse for the vultures, a late paycheck, and a cold cypress tree. 

Writing Streak Week 3 Day 4


It's impossible to not care enough. 

Writing Streak Week 3 Day 3

Victimization and Villainization 

They're never what they first seem. 

Five Line Fiction

the distant past: you

A warm yellow sky, a cozy cabin flush against the trees, and an electric brush of the fingertips. A floating golden lantern, a touch on the lips, and a sweet coffee. 

"We'll meet again that that time." 

A blue city, a cold office, and a bundle of lilies at the door. A dead mouse for the vultures, a late paycheck, and a cold cypress tree. 

Writing Streak Week 3 Day 2

Too Future Focused

Life was lived in a daydream.   


Writing Streak Week 3 Day 1

Terrestrial Disillusionment 

I can't adjust to the dark.  



I run everyday. 
I take the same path, 
Jog the same way, 
Splash lethargically through the drizzle. 
Gotta stay in shape. 

I dislike this piece. 
Been playing it for months on end. 
Sixteenth notes, finger grease
There is no Solo Ensemble. 
But there is no 'cease'

The streets are deserted. 
At least we can breathe in fresh air.
But its dominance is asserted. 
The basketball boys don't play much anymore. 
It smells brokenhearted.

Teachers sending Google Classroom codes. 
I'm not glad for the distraction. 
Hopelessness corrodes. 
I'm dreaming about an apocalypse. 
The world's going to implode? 

Birthdays everyday. 
I hope you're celebrating happily. 
They don't come every day. 
If you wish for this to end. 
Maybe it will someday. 

The sun shines through the clouds. 
It's still there. 
Staring down at the crowds
Of nothing at all. 
The rain is not a memorial or a shroud. 

Morning will come. 
Just not yet. 
The night is young. 
It feels so much...

exterior happiness

He liked the outside. In his opinion, humans were made to stay outside at all times, to feel the fresh air against their cheeks and to breathe in the sun's exhales. If he could, he'd sleep outside whether it be clear, raining, or even snowing. It was his 'safe place'. 

But now, he was inside. Trapped. For 'safety reasons'. 

According to his parents, the world had ended a few decades ago. "There used to be national pride." His mother told him bitterly, like she was there. "There used to be trust."  His Dad mused. He chose to listen more to him than his mother. For now though, even though the whole world knew something was wrong, it was fine. Magicians would continue wrecking the Earth, and the Non-magicians would continue to hate them helplessly. 

For some reason, that didn't sit well with him. The fever inside his ribcage twisted uncomfortably, and he resisted the urge to hurl. There was a...

Zoom Out

half given half taken: shoes on a wire

The Protagonist combs a metallic hand through her hair, oily body excretions running down her neck even though her body temperature's naturally cold. Her bangles ring and clink together as she stands on her tiptoes, synthetic nails delicately threading the plastic end of the shoelace through the other. 

After a few minutes, the Protagonist is satisfied, and she resumes her feet to their natural position, much to her relief. Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she runs a hand against her scalp again, a habit kept through time. Parts of her wants to cry at the symbolism and another doesn't see the meaning at all. The Protagonist keeps it at that. Now is not a time for self reflection, it is a time for mourning. 

The playground's rusted orange bars can barely be seen through the darkness. She cuts a layer of paint away with her nail, trying to heat her palm on the heat of the memories. Looking around,...

Open Prompt

Shipping real people

When you're participating in a fandom, shipping is a given, homosexual and heterosexual both. When it comes to fandoms concerning pieces of fiction, it's often less that the nonshippers and the shippers come into conflict with each other. In fact, it's actually the shippers that are fighting with each other more than the other. However, if you delve into fandoms revolving around real life people, like K-pop or Youtubers, it's a different story. 

If you're a shipper in one of those fandoms, then you must have a certain moral code. As opposed to the people that say they hate shipping and that 'it shouldn't exist at all', I'll say that there are just some rules.
One, keep all kinds of shipping out of the mainstream. Shipping is a niche community, and most of the time, the shipping section and the nonshipping section (one does not need to be exclusively one) is pretty separate. It shouldn't be a problem for a...

After... After... After

Tectonic Plates: Us

After the first time our eyes connected, which I cannot remember: after the period where all my time was spent with you, which meant more to me: after I felt excluded because you were moving on, which could only mean that a one year gap was too wide for us: after I was carried away from the birthday party you only invited me to because of obligation, which I'm still embarrassed about: after I cried because I was all alone in preschool, which happened while I was looking through a yearbook without me: after I entered kindergarten and started making my own friends, which was euphoric: after I stopped thinking about you so much, which didn't mean I didn't think about you at all: after we drifted in our own directions in the middle of elementary school, which was natural: after I got used to only seeing you periodically in small doses, which happened later than it should've: afteryou...

Star Wish

hardworking rabbits on a hot starry night

The rabbits are hard at work. Half pound medicine for us, and the other half pound rice cakes. I breathe in the humid night air, and it feels like summer because in this part of the country, every season is in 144p except for summer, so there's a lot of space for arbitrary temperatures and water droplets to squeeze themselves in where they don't belong.

The moon is particularly packed with bunnies today. I stare at it half because it's beautiful and half because I can't stare at the sun. Some stars twinkle around it, some stars don't, and some stars aren't there at all. I can't separate stars from drones, so I stick to the moon instead. 

A few minutes in, and it's getting boring. I have no passion for the night sky, not today, so I scuffle towards the door and open it. The warm light is overwhelming and I see everyone doing their own thing. I hate...