tracing the firmament of a memory

money (jellyfish sting) #63 4/16/25

i am afraid that one day if i accumulate any form of wealth that unlike change [stagnant] which cannot secede to tangible, earthly pleasures, humans [i] will wash out the color of a heart-- i fear that i will lose myself. because i will have all the materialistic [carnal] desires so i will have no recollection of what it feels like to wade and swim and defy the tide and current to search for something. because it will already be there.

the art of maintaining dormancy #64 4/16/25

in collaboration with @Avian

the soft cloudline wisps in synchronicity with the moonlight;
it is oddly clear for a night so clandestine in nature---
you wanted simplicity but i told you i wanted complexity,
wistful as always. i ruminate in the occupied memory;
memorializing the footprints you left in the grooves of my mind,
fossilized and solidified into frail nimbus-particles.
you are the fleeting aspect of my daydreams, the epiphany behind the imminence.
you say that we are only finite, but what about the constellations
we wove together and named?
i gently caress their blazing victories with a brittle
paling hand, moon soaked and dying a thousand deaths.
every star we see is burning, their deaths inevitable.
i cannot help but wonder if we have always been already-dead.

solidifying the transience of life, i am tracing the constellation
of the lovers(us) into your spine and ribs---let me hold
us together before we die like the stars you are pointing to.
it is only befitting that someone like you(cartographic romanticist)
is the one doing this. otherwise i think the subtitles of the
pearly white beads would stay blemished and diminished.

untitled #65 4/17/25

someday i will transcend my body --- it will all be in vain.

springterlude viv #66 4/17/25

what will happen to the crocuses in summer?
i know nothing of the gardens nor the plants--
i do not know the lifetime of a flower.

all i know is that dandelions do not live and that
i will let it all die alongside me.

untitled ii #67 4/17/25

i miscategorize myself as a savior so i do not feel so bad trampling a pitiful face.


i blame babel ii #68 4/17/25
(a continuation from mibmlos, found here)

i paritally divide the language within me. one day, i will forget how to pull 나는 into yo soy into i am, because i, like all things (plants, mammals, oceanic wonders, the stars et al.) will die. i will die painfully and slowly and grusomely. it will all collapse around me.

until september washes august through #69 4/17/25

he crawls back to me acting
like a war-torn soldier. i roll my eyes,
apathizing with his faux-wounds.
i tell him- "one day, those psychologists
have ought to study that miswired brain of yours."

it is like watching a baby become
self-aware. that alonr makes me laugh.
i find suffering humourous because
i desensitize myself to everything.
i will no longer get hurt.

dormantly, docile #70 4/18/25

i reanimate myself into becoming
domestic. i do not speak when
not spoken to-- no longer will
i linger. normally i dislike staying
grounded for too long, but it is
so tiring having to recall the ideology of leaving.

four motions about some person i will have to accept in my life #71 4/18/25

i.
sometimes i wonder if he will stay
malignant, if the moon will wane and wax
in such a way that when he writhes [festering]
i will feel his rot moving through me.
it is never gentle, never quite like how i
will remember it. although, in spite of that-
i wonder if it has always been so gratifying
to pity someone.

ii.
my father tells me not to be
so dependent. he says that i attach
to things i cherish like a parasite.
an addict. and i still find myself trying
to defend myself. he pins me in a corner
and tells me that i am always fighting
my losing battles, that i lack conviction.

i say nothing in response.

iii.
she is the first person that has led
me to believe that i am truly irredeemable.
in her eyes, i am a lingering memory of
what has passed. as a vessel of recordance,
i tell her she has changed; for the worse, she still has
that same look in her eyes. that hatred--
the passion. the rage.

i do not stop her when she rips apart
the polaroid connections, nor do i tell her
that i will miss what we had. i have given up
on her-- i know she has already done that a
long, long time ago to me.

iv.
whenever i look into the mirror,
i swear i can feel the crocuses wanting
to jut out maliciously through my pores.
it is an omen of what is to come: change.

i have since denounced change. i dislike
the ebb of a breathing soil patch,
the whims of daffodils as they each sprout,
uncaring of the past;

no---

--- uncaring of what used to be there.
what died. i will die, it will be in vain--
i can forsee it already. [sometimes,
i play myself a prophet.]

iamsomething,iamsomething,iamsomething #72 4/18/25

iamsomeone'ssomething,idonotexist
outsideofthecontextofanotherperson,
iamcomprisedpartially,iamnobody
withoutasomebody---icannotexistalone.
uncaringtothelowerbeings,butstillpitifully
dependant,ifindmyselfatcrossroads.

itisinescapableitisinescapableitisinescapable

(iamnevergoingtobesomeone,iamnevergoingtobesomething.
whatapitifulfacewhatapitifullifewhatapitifulman.)
[iliveonasahusk;somedayiwilltranscendtransience.]

untitled iii #73 4/19/25

the clouds loom over a temeperate morning-- rainfall shifts it into mourning.

fifth motion #74 4/20/25

[taken down for submission]

shedding #75 4/20/25

what if i could be like a snake and shed the old life as if it were a husk? maybe then i will let all the memories flow down my shoulders like fresh rain.

springterlude x #76 4/20/25

when i dreamt in my nap, i saw a
field of daffodils, and i laid down next
to them, listening to the wind blow through.

poetic ramble iii #77 4/20/25

sometimes i cannot help but reassess what has been lost. it is as if i am recounting a set of memories or whatever goes along with such an idea. in short, it is like trying to being an amnesiac from the beginning, with every clipping of a past personality being impertinent to your real goal. but looking back, i cannot remember what that was.

discordant summer/fall #78 4/20/25

sometimes, when i feel the
sweltering heat of a summer-
it can only further the shock of
a change of color. it is like letting
the peaches and the sand
get eaten by the maw of a blazing
forest.

untitled iv #79 4/20/25

sometimes i reach higher than i should because then i will feel the crushing defeat when my wings eventually melt.

aurora dreams #80 4/20/25

one day, all this stardust
of mine will condense into
a newfound wish of some sort
of renewed chance of life.

it will breathe a nebula
large enough for the two of
us into our firmaments,
and finally, we will intersect.

it is not every day that a sun
will harmonize with a moon.
normally, the parity is too
large, one ends up
disparaging the other.

you just know, you know? #81 4/20/25

my favorite color is periwinkle, and sometimes i do not know why. just like how i know my name is analogous with something, and that my favorite foods are spicy, or maybe sweet. these are just the things that you are suppose to know, apparently. they seldom come to me in half-baked epiphanies, so i cling onto them like lifelines.

zZz-zZz #82 4/20/25

in media, they always depict
sleeping with snot bubbles and
triple z in navy blue. but why?
to me, a rest is more than just yawning
and little popping bubbles.
a dream is so much more than an
aspiration, it is the isolation of
one's will. when you rest
you are more than just the
physical form. you are more than
just human.

untitled v #83 4/20/25

i crush myself with insurmountable expectations of greatness-- it will feel better when i reach the valley of this mountain.

where do all the spirits go? #84 4/20/25

when i die, i will hope that
there is no heaven, no hell.
no place to go. i will just let
my physical form rest while i dissipate.
some are scared of a fate like that,
but it sounds fairly peaceful.

springterlude xi #85 4/20/25

when the rain ends, and
all the sprouts poke through,
will the crocuses lay dormant until
next year, or will they linger?

cherry blossom #86 4/20/25

my favorite flower is the crocus,
but the close second is the sakura.
i think that pink (unnaturally natural)
is a beautiful color. it flushes faces,
it sways in the wind like a
hailstorm met petals.

the creek #87 4/20/25

when i was little, you used to
go with me down to that stream in
that one park and i would jump on the stones
and you would say to be careful. i never was.
but when i grew up i found myself telling
you to be careful every time you
left the house. maybe weariness runs in
our bones.

pines #88 4/20/25

evergreens,
ever green--
they do not flush in autumn,
but when dying, their leaves(?)
become a beautiful, sickly,
wheat color. why is it
that some things are only
beautiful when they are leaving?

autumn forest #89 4/20/25

i love autumn. it has always been my favorite season. every year, when we drive past the hillside i said that you should look at the forest fire, pointing to the crisp burn-grazed leaves. now, when we go past that hillside, it is all just grass.

places we've never been #90 4/20/25

- where i was born
- deathbed (mine)
- the future
- where it was all meant to be
- where it is now
- that place in the middle of nowhere
- back to the cabin now that she is dead
- cemetery (hers)
- inbetween the firmament and the memory
- home

the birth of helios #91 4/21/25

i patiently await the birth of the sun.
sitting dormant, calm. the tide of day\night
does not peturb me, i do not fear the
eclipsing sun as the sky darkens viciously.
time will pass through me; it can all fall
apart, and i will still be here. patient.

poetic ramble iv #92 4/21/25

how to explain love to someone who will never love again. step one, tell them everything they have done wrong. let sin and error cacophonize into a babbling hatred. create no margins to escaoe to, make them farce their fears. step two, reassure them that they, one day, will be able to fall in love again. you get bonus points for breaking their heart another time. step three. well. there is nothing more for you to do, because cruelty is humility is whatever it means to be alive.

untitled vii #93 4/21/25

it is impossible to remember what you have lost.

paint me like one of your french girls #94 4/21/25

i lay my legs barren,
being your muse. i feel
like in that one painting
where the woman stands in
the clam.

i am at calm.

springterlude xii #95 4/21/25

spring, in nature, is boundless.
i grow regardless of the time.

gleaming-once-gleamed #96 4/21/25

everything is rust tainted
anyway. it is futile saving
what is already corroded.