blue lipstick

i'd like to leave a mark on you
a mark unlike the ones before
a mark that's solely me; mine
a mark printed in cobalt blue
a mark etched deeply into you

there's an obsessive quality in the way people interact,
in relationships that play on around us;
i can hear that endless litany of
"remember me,"
"feel me,"
"notice me,"
"acknowledge me,"
"don't forget me,"
"tell me i'm special."

"simple and clean"

and fresh, and altogether uplifting,
was today's weather--
finally it's winter.
and already i'm thinking of all the things i want to do,
just because i love that
cool, crisp air.

id like to see:
the snow firefly flashing connected fluid signals
the other half of the art gallery i missed
the faces of you, you, and you soon
the green expanse of grassland swaying to the breeze

but first, i'll deal with these midterms

music: "Drops of Jupiter" --Tanya Chua (originally by Train)

on either side of the screen:

i felt, no--experienced, the webcam's function today.
yes i've used it countless times,
but it was only today,
that i understood it's powers.

because when ed's face appeared on that small,
too small of screen,
he was suddenly there, in front of me.
as if physically, i could reach him.
i could hear him, i could see him.
but he's not here.
contradicting and puzzling in complex ways

but i guess it was even stranger for him:
i couldn't speak to him because my roommate was still sleeping.
all he could hear was the tapping on the keyboard.
and yet my image is there, changing with my emotions.
(mostly smiles, couldn't help but smile; wide ones too)

that short conversation had surprisingly deep impact on me.
i never really acknowledged the distance and time between us.
but i felt it's force: a gust of wind rushing past me.
and ha! we are aging, we saw it in each other

music: "Natural Woman" --Aretha Franklin

so-called ALTRUISM

there ought to be a promise of something good,
something that'll make up for all the loss.
a guarantee that we're not JUST sacrifising
withering away into nothingness
quietly wishing that perhaps: someone noticed.
even something as small as a night of singing,
a cup of icecream, a dream of flying.
we'd like to convince ourselves that rewards are unnecessary,
even hypocratic
but the need to be acknowledged--difficult to suppress;
more so if you care.

music: "Fake Plastic Trees" --Radiohead

wenying no longer feels [let this end]

let me love or hate,
but don't deprive me of the privilege to feel.

why is it that i'm so indifferent to everything?!
it's baffling, frustrating, leaving me utterly helpless

banging my head against the table won't help.

listening to myself has never been more depressing.