feeling – Page 5 – Portrait of Em.

in-side

my throat is burning,
my soul is screaming,
Tell me —
what am i doing?

and somehow
i feel like i’m floating,
i walked
as if i am flying

not in the sky,
not on the ground,
neither the heaven nor the hell
purgatory perhaps.

Tell me —
what am i doing.

i talked to no-one,
and no one does care;
i smiled to some-one,
some-one who has vanished.

Tell me —
what am i doing.

there are something to do,
i know, for sure.
i want to do it,
but i could not make it.

the woodpecker inside me,
the devil inside me,
the soul —
i am not sick,
i am not sick,

not at all.

what am i, then, doing now?
no one could tell
no one would tell,
and no one should.

my throat is burning,
my soul is screaming,
Tell me —
what am i doing.

just perhaps,

eyes wide open,
yet i see nothing.

Written on 13 October 2013,
In Lei Yue Mun, Hong Kong,
When I have just started working on my dissertation on “Deadly Sins in Fairytales”.

Something is changing inside me.
Something is collapsing.
But I love the feeling.

stor-m

Love is a glue,
Gluing two together;
When it melts,
Love cannot be felt.

We are individuals after all,
Who can be sure
The star of love will never fall?

I am not you,
And you are not me,
Only when you believe,
There is a “we”.

Love is a ship.
When the storm comes,
It just could not escape:
Eaten by the tides,
Washed by the waves,
Or end up, perhaps, in the stomachs of the whales.

Pale is the lip,
Love falls asleep,
The sailors leap.

I told you how I feel,
But if you do care,
You will try to feel
and heal;

You said you cannot understand,
Yet,
If you wish to understand,
You will;
But if you —

You will never know.

Written on 27 September 2013.
Love brings colours to the world, feelings to the Earth.
Grey is the background colour of my lovely little world.

I know I am a masochist, falling in love with my wounds.
For a poet is someone who feels the world with all his heart,
portrays the world he feels in his every great piece of work,
every choice of words.

me-rry

You are on a merry-go-around,
But it suddenly drops you to the ground —
You cry for help aloud,

But still —
You cannot be found.

You are drowned.

Merry-go-around,
Hang there the coldly smiled,
quiet and haunted,
merry! go around.

Written on 25 September 2013.
Inspired by a Billboard in Kwun Tong, Hong Kong.

maso-chist

over the years i have put all my anger
my sadness my tears my feelings
inside me trapping them keeping them
remembering them n now it’s critical its
the time it’s the time which it gonna
explode i know there’s something
wrong with me i know i know me but
what actually is it i do not know i’m a
masochist i am i know i am masochist
maso-chist i’m destroying me why am i
like this i do not know maybe may-be
may-it-be but i think i like it i’m i am for
i am a poet and nothing more right i am
nothing but a poet

Written on 29 November 2013
I think something is broken inside me,
I do not know what is it,
I think I am collapsing.

But I love the feeling of collapse.

ash

How many people we meet in our life,
and how many leave their marks in it?
You may, perhaps,
call it as “fate”
which we could never change it a bit.

Parallel lines,
Intersecting points,
Overlapping time —

Who knows what is ahead?

Move on,
there is no way to return.

Flash —
tic-tac-tic-tac
moment never waits,
time never pauses,
and, thus, wake up.

Beauty would not last,
Words would be washed off,
Meanings lose,
Feelings fade,
Nothing can last
like a moment of flashback.

Written on 21 August 2013
A poem dedicated to the very interesting people whom I have met in my life —
And there will of course be more of them.