yuntian
We write to taste life twice; In The Moment & In Retrospection.

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Sunday, November 01, 2009
There are a thousand things,






You
decide who gets to hold
gasoline
in their mouths and let sunshine
run over it
because

yuntian ♥ 3:03 PM link to post 0 comments



My Problem with the World

Occurs because pregnant women
wear signs on their bellies
that say they’ve spread their legs.

Because the smell of sewers
rises hot and thick from below
sidewalks, beneath the feet
of suited business men.

Because wherever people congregate
(in office meetings, grocery stores),
it means a room full of genitalia
that would all fit together
if they tried.

Because toilets are pipe ends
sticking out of floors,
inescapable as fact, and
because the handsome boy who
holds the door for the girl
behind him still
makes a sticky mess
on the bed without a condom.

Because the bookstore clerk beams
shyly and holds out Fitzgerald
with a small hand, then
jerks off in the employee bathroom
later, thinking about your ass
while you walked out.

Because your parents had sex
on dirty sheets one day and out
you slid, flaked with wax and wet
with membrane, in a hospital
where someone died messily,
one floor below,
an hour earlier.

Because flies linger around
graveyards, and because
a poem can’t hide forever
what is really happening.

Because the surface
is thin
as human skin,
pulsing with the blood, black
tar and grease
that keep the body
beating and limping along:
each thing pressed
against the next,
like a stranger’s arm
you’re forced to lean against,
without looking at each other,
the entire bus ride home.

-Brenda Paro

yuntian ♥ 2:42 PM link to post 0 comments


Wednesday, October 07, 2009
This is what I've been trying to say for so long.


yuntian ♥ 10:36 PM link to post 0 comments



I Wrote This For You




This isn’t torture.
Torture happens in small, dark rooms in countries with names you struggle to spell. This is just mildly unpleasant.

This isn’t heroism.
Heroism happens in churches that are also schools, performed by teachers with no names and no place to stay.
This is just a good deed for the day.

This isn’t loss.
Loss happens on fields filled with poppies, in hospitals buzzing with flies, in distant deserts and late at night when there’s no good reason for the phone to ring. This is just longing.

This isn’t important.
Important happens on bended knees and is breathed on last breaths with hands clutched tight, hearts tighter.
This is just a distraction.

yuntian ♥ 10:30 PM link to post 0 comments


Friday, September 11, 2009
Vile

If it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand. I hope you find out what you want. I already know what I am. And if it makes you less sad, we'll start talking again. And you can tell me how vile I already know that I am. I'll grow old and start acting my age. I'll be a brand new day in a life that you hate. A crown of gold. A heart that's harder than stone. And it hurts a whole lot, but it's missed when it's gone. Call me a safe bet. I'm betting I'm not. I'm glad that you can forgive. I'm only hoping as time goes, you can forget. If it makes you less sad, I'll move out of the state. You can keep to yourself. I'll keep out of your way. And if it makes you less sad, I'll take your pictures all down. Every picture you paint, I will paint myself out. It's cold as a tomb, and it's dark in your room, when I sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds. So call it quits or get a grip. Say you wanted a solution. You just wanted to be missed. Call me a safe bet. I'm betting I'm not. I'm glad that you can forgive. I'm only hoping as time goes, you can forget.

yuntian ♥ 8:01 PM link to post 0 comments


Saturday, June 20, 2009
Envy




I'm jealous of all the girls before me.
It isn't the typical ex-girlfriend jealously.
Nor is it the paranoia that you might still like them.

I'm envious of each and everyone of them.
Whether or not it might be a fling or a year-long relationship.
Or she means anything to you now.

It is because you've spent considerable effort on them.
Sweet words, kisses, cuddles.
You've held another with spoken words of endearment.

And love.
Similar
To mine.

They each have a piece of you to themselves.
How you laughed, what you said, the way you styled your hair.
Stuff that I'll never know, nor have to myself.

Sometimes I wished I knew you when we were still little.
Then we wouldn't miss out much on each other.
How you were.
Are.
And to be.

yuntian ♥ 3:20 PM link to post 0 comments



Hi would you like to be my Lover I could write you lines like that.

on Intensity

When I'm with you, a part of me always overflows.
It spills over.
Whether I'm happy or sad or annoyed, you intensify it.

You make it two-fold.

You made gladness harder to contain,
and sadness impossible to tide over.

This extremity fascinates me.



On MeMeMe

I am genuinely impressed with my capacity of interest in another person when I'm with you.

I find myself wanting to know the most inane things: What your mother wore to her prom, What is your favourite sock colour, How you behaved on school buses and around your grandmother, Who was your first playmate..

My blabber seems incomprehensible and pointless.
But it makes every sense to me sometimes.



On Recollections

(Its all FaceBook's fault, really)

Love
is the glorification of the present.

It is the attachment to the present that drives off recollection, shields one against their constant intrusion.

Memory does not become malevolent
But it can be disregarded and kept out at a distant, and it will lose its power over anyone.

Doesnt it sound tiring?
That you might have to find things of the present to fend off thoughts of the past. Its mechanism is a perpetual loop.




on Contentment

Never have i felt so suffused with beauty when you pull your fingers through my hair and kissed me idyllically on the head.


on Fights

We might be self destructing.
You make me feel like I might be the one planting the bombs.



on Insecurities

I'm terrified that one day,
you might tolerate less well
my Demands, my Arguments, my Tears,
my all too present, too expansive body.

And my incessant demand for some immense, intoxicating, nameless thing called
Love.



on Revision

If one day, I ever come up to you and said that I've never loved you or felt that you were right for me...
Don't believe me.
Because sometimes, people revise their feelings if the feelings were wrong.
If reality disproved of them.


on Behaviour&Thoughts

Somedays, I feel like I ought to lay out a moral hierarchy of emotions.
A list of what I'm obliged and entitled to freely feel,
and a list of which I'm never to openly express.
It will be a list which will tell me which emotions are more important to feel right now in this situation and which are unnecessary.

Emotions are neither wrong or right.
The only thing i can do with them is to logicalise them.
Justify them.

Do you understand?

yuntian ♥ 2:43 PM link to post 0 comments



Reasons



Whatever you become,
Someone will long for
What you were.

Had abit of an epiphany the other day.
FaceBook always abuses me in the most unimaginable ways.

1. I get panic attacks from seeing my oh-so-considerate friends of mine from way back when post awkward photos on me and TAGS me

2. I see how wonderful my used-to-be-chummy friends get along just fine without me in their lives

3. I see used-to-be-really-sane people looking really weird nowadays with a delusional imsocool looks plastered all over

4. I see people i dont know at all on my friends list. So there, the 900friends thing is all just internetpretty. I only talk to 20 of them. Out of which only 10 are real friends. The rest are net-buddies. (HAHA, okay I'm not that pathetic, but you get my point)


I've digressed but the epiphany is:
Maybe you're not meant to 'SEE' how your good ol times friends have turned out.
Maybe it just creates more room for disappointment.

Sometimes I don't like/believe what I see on the screens but I've just got to believe in my most good-natured manner that they're becoming better people. Happy and well.

Just perhaps not in the same way I've related to them before.

yuntian ♥ 2:33 PM link to post 0 comments



My Sick Head





Life's been awkward.
I keep having these mental images of me wearing an exotic hat sitting outside a classroom with green walls on metal chairs with a row of girls sitting alongside me.
There's 6 of us and we all look similar.
There's only me wearing this really exotic, flamboyant thing.

And I was feeling really self-conscious.
I wanted to wear my hat but I was terrified people might stare.
Like, I did not want anymore attention that I deserved.

I Just Like My Hat.

Is there even a deeper meaning to this?

I've been having alot of dreams lately.
Every Night, actually.

Different People Different Words, Different Settings.
I can't really differentiate if I've really spoken to them or not.

I think I'm developing some delusional mental disease.

Help?

yuntian ♥ 2:03 PM link to post 0 comments



SISTERSISTER



Sister's 15th.
no photos of her cos i took v amateur ugly lighting shots hahahaha.

yuntian ♥ 2:23 AM link to post 0 comments