day 137

i like when little things remind me of people
sometimes even strangers
the sky reminds me of a friend
pink and blue skies
orange skies
clouds
reminder of how weak my knees get for a better point of view
the sun setting
a subtle cheer for a good day

day 136

On January 28th, 1986
the space shuttle Challenger exploded
seventy-three seconds
into the flight.

It has been rumored that the recording of the astronauts' last words were recovered. Although this isn't true, this has been inspired by the tragedy:

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to get to space. It takes the wide eyes of a daydreamer and the palms strong enough to hold onto hope. The feeling of flying... Is something similar to the chase. It is the cat and mouse childhood adrenaline. We all run until we are out of breath. Until we are numb. Until the victory has been brushed off and the struggle wins gold.
I've lived my life fully and rich. The moon has always been my savior. I talk to her when I am lost. Her tides pull the gravity right under my feet. At times I forget why the bones in my feet have a mind of their own. They pull and pull and never fail. They pulled me to a silent prayer. I rehearsed my thank you speech for her all the way up here. I was so close to holding the moon. To dancing with her. To meeting my hero, my savior, my love.
This is what adrenaline is. It's the chase. It's running until we fly and flying until we are out of... Breath...

day 135

(Tuesday)

open letter to professors who repeatedly
call their students
dumbasses

...uhhh sir?
Must there be an explanation for your behavior? Perhaps you are suffering from the bittersweet angst of teaching at a community college...or two.
We are not dumb.
We know its okay to be smart
and to ask questions
We don't know the point of asking questions if we know we will get scoffed at
told we are the epitome of a community college course
told its okay to be smart
told there is no point in being shy anymore
Sheesh sir,
we aren't shy.
We don't want to waste our breath on a professor who doesn't even want to be here


signed,
the future

day 134

I wonder why inconsistency exists

If there are lessons to be learned, I've come to accept that I will continually grow broken, slanted like the limbs of an old tree, fragile and tender, waiting for the last strike of luck to just be let go. I love foolishly and hot. Love like vacation. Swaying in between reach of roots and dancing with soft shore wind. I learned to love how heavy gravity feels when you're underwater. How easy it is to let go and be cleansed. Be one with the sea. Blue, and wishing to hold onto every soul I let in.
I've become so salt water stingy and bitter and wanting to clean my open wounds with a drowning. I love too deep. Too heavy and dangerous. No one really loves like this anymore, or at least I don't think I've felt it in return. I've loved madly twice.
I used to believe I didn't want someone so quiet, but I just never realized how loud his love for me was. I thank him for letting me go and allowing me to grow, but I can't let go of how much I actually miss him sometimes. I miss him hard and it makes me so sad. The feeling of making a mistake is much more than guilt or being lonely. He never made my life stressful or jealous or unsatisfying. The love and the strength of the love He gave me was always more than enough. I'm sorry I didn't see this a lot sooner. I'm so sorry I left so quickly and so eager to just adventure. Nowadays, my life is just blue and heavy and jealous. I cry a lot and hard. I regret often. I've grown very sad and lost and not ready to leave again because I know how hopeful I am. I am too much of a dreamer for my own good. I wake up next to him sometimes and feel the unbearable weight of staying. I've learned to love the way a gust of wind can make your whole body feel. Like effortless and beautiful. My mistake was just wanting so much and just pushing it all away.
I love a lot and I will always love forever. It is possibly too late for the one but we all live and learn and grow and adjust. I don't even know him anymore. I cried for an hour tonight because I remember knowing him by heart. I can't even remember what makes him happy anymore or even sad or what he loves and why I even used to love him so much. He used to give me the light weight of being in love all the time. The gravity is a lot heavier now.
I tend to let myself sink.

day 133

YOU WOULD NOT BE HUMAN
IF YOU DID NOT HURT

day 132

(a letter today, for myself,
about 6 months from now
probably just part one)

Dude
Your little shit hiatus is going way down the drain.
The most beautiful thing
was the silence
was your growth
and presence
You silenced a whole art gallery
You did the damn thing
and they believed
I mean
It may have not been your best performances
but you're still growing
hope you're still growing wherever you end up in six months
hopefully still chasing the same dreams
2013 will be great
2013 is great

day 131

(for the FV! I Think I ___ You Show)

"Soul mates come into our lives to help us find our inner self"

An open letter to the soundtrack of our relationship

Hello heart
I remember hearing your song faintly
while resting my head
on the chest of other soldiers
The thumping of an escape
secretly telling me the love I deserve
was not in the rib cage of these boys

Hello fingernails
The scratching and digging into each others
nervous palms were not
a way of trying to get deeper
They were an acoustic
practice session of fortune telling
They were a way to grab hold and
see who would let go first
They were a way to leave scars
if one day one of us indeed let go

Hello lungs
Keeping one lung empty
and the other whole
taught us to breathe in sync
To practice techniques of
how to let the other one
know how much we love the other
and why

Hello tongue
You seem to be out of control sometimes
Your lashing out is the lead vocalist
of the new punk rock band
in the garage
Where you seem to have left your ears
Thank you for the slight change in genre
Your I Love You's
sound a whole lot more
wholeheartedly

Hello cracking of sore backs and hips and knees
You play the sweet note of us
beginning to grow old together

Hello heart
Again
A few years ago
I remember hearing your songs faintly
like a whisper
like a caged songbird wanting to escape
Secretly plotting a way to dig to the surface
You were not trying to bury your fortune
in a small scar of your dead soldiers
More than lately
I enjoy the thumping of your victory
I now know you were tired of being empty
while keeping someone whole
Your breathing is a lot louder now
Is being fed by oxygen and fresh air
and a new love
By the playful I Hate You's,
the I Wish We Were Never Dating's,
and the You Are Sleeping On the couch Tonight's
because we both wake up
hearts skipping beats in sync
holding onto dear life with sweaty palms
together, on the couch,
with the cracking of sore backs and hips
and knees

day 130

today I pierced my nose

I'm not sure why I feel so rebellious
I'm nineteen

Driving home tonight
I realized that I don't give you enough freedom
I am bitter about a lot and I don't know why
Sometimes I have become your mother instead of the love of your life

Pretending to sleep in my bed is terrifying


My mother likes to lecture my dog when I'm not home

day 129

(Wednesday's post)

I cried today when I told you I loved you
I miss the sway of your words against my skin
the warmth and the home
your mouth will always be the memories I want to taste
there is nothing I want more
than to find you sleeping next to me
when my dreams awake

day 128

I am not easily impressed by
guys who are poets
who learn the lingo
and how to make girls swoon by the dance of their tongues
I don't do it for the love

day 127

it's frightening to know how much we all change
every fear
goal
every strand of hair
every single
heart beat
the
ability to dream
and how we catch them
and filter out the bad

how we filter out our words
who we talk to
and why
what makes us so special
every melting snow flake

the red on our noses
color in our soul
how cold we can all remember to be
and feel

day 126

my life in ten parts

p. III
(secrets about my name
about who I really am)


my father named me after Snow White
I guess
I'm not sure why

my mother wanted to name me
Morina
she said
Her middle name can be Princess
Why would you name someone that
It's stupid

he ended up giving me the middle name
Moon
(no one really knows this)

growing up,
I thought that I had the fucking
stupidest name ever
Princess Moon Chan

my mother told me that I could tell people
my middle name was Morina
then I met one of my best friends in middle school
her name is
Moryna
so I thought it would be weird
so I took the N out
Moria
Maria
so we renamed myself
Princess Maria Chan

my mother calls me Mars

my hate for my name is galactic
I have not grown into my name
it makes me self conscious
and stupid
I am sick of being looked at as a conceited bitch
like I was responsible for naming myself
I named myself Mars

Mars is the Roman god of war
I am constantly in war with myself

day 125

they told me
that my art requires sleep
I don't need any more dreams
I already live with my head in the clouds
makes it easier to deal with the cold souls
sometimes they serve doubt for breakfast
wonder if these nuts and bolts will help me
build towards the blueprint dreamer I'm supposed to be
they want to see me bleed
don't believe that my passion boils my blood so I wander
and I breathe
to remind myself that I am only human
we are all heart and soul
paper cuts and knee bruises
sometimes they'll package us in broken boxes to match our spirits
they don't see the fire in our eyes
we don't need to tell them
we don't owe to anything
they can't save us

when your heavy heart stops you from swimming
learn how to drown
stay lost
sometimes
we just aren't ready
to find ourselves

day 124

longest
minute
of my life

I still keep time
with matching watches
Slowly watching everything that has died
come back to life
This is a daydream I do not want to share

day 123

My life in ten parts
II.

I don't know myself as much as I'd like

the nights I am laying
wide awake with a head filled of
lost sheep
I dream longer
stretch farther
and wake up in a cold sweat
I spend a lot of time
counting the days of how long
the sheep have stayed
when will they leave
when will I not need their help

day 122

if we fall for a person who reminds us of the parent we have unresolved issues with:
why?
I am in love with a boy
who loves to hear the sound of his own voice
his words have quite detail,
but I catch him rambling on
and on
and
on and
on til I just can't take it.

I don't talk as much as I used to
I refuse to be my father's daughter
I refuse to let my words turn into rambles

I've spent the longest months
trying to find out why my poems are
getting shorter

The answer has been in the blood I've been given

day 121

My life in ten parts
I.

It took me nineteen years to realize
that I am not my father's daughter.
I have tried to be the fixer upper
of a sad idea.

I vowed to never write about you,
but the more and more I try to ignore the itchy annoyance,
the guilt trips, the you-know-that-he-loves-you's,
the he's-your-father,
the don't talk to him, or the talk to him,
he is only getting older,

not wiser,

the more I try to ignore
the more disgusted I feel.
I am not my father's daughter
I am not and never will admit to being my father's daughter

day 120

15 minutes during the downfall of love


The day you wanted to stop loving
we were crouched together
peacefully
on our beat up mattress

your lips managed to squeeze out a sigh
a sign of defeat
we both had realized that
the springs couldn't hold us up anymore
and
the dreams we had forced of each other
had turned into restless sleep cycles

nights of being lost
wandering
hopeless
i still hope to turn over
and
wake up the sleeping dreams
of us

day 119

The art of breathing with your eyes closed
toes pointed and backs arched
Secretly leaning towards wanting to be loved
i will never utter a word to you

day 118

what
makes
me
weak

pt. vi

I still get nervous before performing

day 117

lost
items
can be
replaced


Does this also apply to love
and broken friendships
?

day 116

/

I am the bridge between
the fog, the mist,
and another rainy day

A few more footsteps
and lot more yearning

day 115

Dear Ryan
Aka
Guy who works at the Apple Store and also the guy who sold me my very first Apple product

You rock

Any man who can feel that happy for me deserves a really long hug
One day I will write an enormous love poem about you

For now I shall play with my iPad

day 114

what
makes
me
weak

pt. V.

you must have
realized this
by now

that i give up a lot
and i give up
on myself
too often

but you still believe
in me
you all still
wait for me to
make a come
back
push me through
disappointment
and brush the
dirt off my grave of
a name

i am slowly
growing out of
not giving myself
enough
credit

i just want
to wake up
and tell you
that earth is
decaying deadly
but it is still
beautiful
still alive
still poetry

day 113

what
makes
me
weak

pt. IV.

poems about
love
and break ups
and sex
and being alone

those about
kissing
sleeping in separate beds
wondering
what
someone's
voice
sounds like

poems about
miles
walking
tears, regret,
time
TIME
waiting
anticipation

these are all
written by souls
itching to be free
from the claustrophobic
home called
finger tips

we are all guilty
of keeping
the middle man
a prisoner
of keeping
words our lovers
should have heard
years ago
of forgetting
how much angel
is left
in a stranger's
voice

of forgetting
we have
all
fallen in love
head over heels
flying
with an angel-voiced
stranger

day 112

you are bits of grain that blow away so easily in this wind

winter is so harsh

must be so harsh for you

day 111

what
makes
me
weak

pt. II.


the curve
above lips
as
a smile
forms

another heart is
feeling warmth

in this moment

two lovers
remember
what it feels like
to be alive
in one's
touch

day 110

what
makes
me
weak
pt. I.


woman with a gentle smile
eyes bright
with a belly swollen of hope
swallowing pride and
faith

man
with gentle eyes
a smile bright
towards his woman
with a belly swollen of faith
swallowing hope in belief
proudly

day 109

Is it too early to speak
Is it too early to tell you we're a lost cause
losing because everything was too early
practiced trying to be the one
and the only
and the brave
and the lover
just made to mold and be fixed in heat
Is it too early to catch you
broken porcelain
with lips split from the cold
uncertainty
of it all

It may be
maybe it's too early

day 108

In the case of a global
zombie
apocalypse,
I've developed a list of what I'd like to happen:

- I hope to be at home with my mum and pup
- if my pup turned into a zombie dog, I'd teach her some cool tricks
- I wouldn't let my mother turn into a zombie
- the market basket down the street would not be my first choice because it is already the most crowded place in town
- I'd hope that my older brother survives because he lives in Maryland and I feel like the epidemic would strike there first
- I would like my sister's dog to turn into a zombie so he could play with my dog
- I would prefer the apocalypse to happen in the summer because I wouldn't want to die from slipping on black ice or being too cold
-
- I love you and if you ever got bit by a zombie, I wouldn't shoot you, I would just run really far away. I wouldn't let you bite me either. You are a starving artist like I am and you would probably eat most of me and I would be a very bony zombie.

day 107

i planned to spend the first day
of a new year
with good company
instead
i am spending it in the arms of a broken lover
i know we shouldn't beat a dead horse
but i still believe he is my knight in shining armour
steadily racing towards me on a race horse
we are still in love like we are running out of time
i don't know if this is as bad as it seems
i know it is forbidden
but my heart knows no rules
it runs and skips to the beat of its own drum
racing away from the stallions that try to outrun fate


this will be a long year