My basket’s all empty
I’d filled it with memories
But now it is empty, they’re gone
I’d left it all open
I think they got stolen
So I need to make some new ones
Oh
I want to be hopeful
I want to be kind
I want to get out of
My sad little mind
I’m trying my hardest
I want to be found
I think I’ll stay afloat
But what if I drown?
My basket’s all ready
To be filled up anew
I am still waiting,
I don’t know, for whom
Oh
I want to be hopeful
I want to be kind
I want to get out of
My sad little mind
I grasp at the breeze
For bubbles to pop
I’m thankful for heartbeats
Which did not stop
I stand with my basket
I stand here alone
I am not empty
I will soon go home
Yes I will make memories
I will find friends
I will smell roses
And happiness
I will come back once
I’m empty again
I’ll sing my sad song
And rest in my pain
Goodbye, passer-by
You have been kind
You listened to my song
I’d lost my mind
Maybe another day
I’ll run into you
For now, I’m happy
I wish you are, too!
Violent colours dancing on your face
I watch from afar
I look away
Violent colours stabbing my heart
The leaves are swaying
Hair strands gripped on to your sweaty face
I remember your anecdotes
I remember you doted on me
I remember it all
How did I have no eyes back then?
The poets and singers lament my foolishness
He is standing next to you
My stomach is upset with rage
As he removes the silk strands from your face
I mourn our days
Sunlight leaking through leaves
My once-negligent heart now twisting and turning
Oh what I wouldn’t give now
To have it all back
I look at my palms and I look at your face
You and your new friend begin to move away
I am empty with a shell for a heart,
Cursing myself for letting you go
Wondering about how could I not know
I cannot bear staying apart.
Give me a cushion, I’ll lay your head.
You think you’re useless, but I’m not dead
I’ll hammer in some sense, my God,
You’re a fucking treasure!
I love your work, your art, your thoughts
Your pain and your pleasure
Cry all you want, here, take some ice-cream
You can, always, come crying to me
I’ll tell you some new jokes for myself to laugh at
So you’d smile too; for me that’s enough, and
I love you like family, my friend,
You say you love me too
We’re fucking amazing
At most things we do!
Or maybe just some things, who cares, right?
Let’s listen to some music and we’ll be just fine.
There’s more than what meets the eye
Didn't you say, you were mine?
The clock will strike twelve, where will you go then?
In the dark, I will not look for you anymore
I have never looked for anything but my reflection
My yellowing pages are all about me
I can let go of new chapters
I can let go of pages before they decay
I will not ask you to stay
Forever is too long, the ink will dry out
The clock strikes twelve, almost
It’s time to turn into our ghosts
There was more than what met the eye
No matter,
I am great at goodbyes.
I think I am happy, I wrote some new songs.
I love the sunsets, and where I come from,
There is much beauty but there is more evil
It hurts to look, and when you do see them
You blame all mankind, you refuse to exist
You can’t solve a thing, not those you wished
Your friends might still love you
Wrap you with smiles
But so many unhappy,
The disparity in lives-
But I think I’m happy. I just wrote some songs
I know I can’t really right all the wrongs
I’m glad for friendships, for family as well
We live in our fights and the cold war spells
Let’s have some chocolates. You want some tea?
I think I am happy, and I want you to be
Glad that you met me, glad that you’re here
Tapping on the moment, spreading some cheer
I’m glad to have met you; I’ll write you a song
I’m starting a journey, friend. Won’t you come along?
I imagine the sun settingflowingdropping into the crease of buildings
A mellow skyline, pink and rose and yellow and blushing
I imagine everyday beauty
I am inside a small room and I never go out.
My house is only two storeys high
My ambition no higher
I crave the softness that comes with smallness
All I taste is the gap I never even dream to remove someday
I often wonder what other dots in the web are doing
It glitches my mind and I get disconnected
I bet it’s beautiful outside
Even the high-rise residents can’t jog at their beautified parks
I wrap my arm around my pillow
Take a deep breath
I am herenowalwaysforever
I pick a movie to watch
The deadlines can wait
The dead lines aren’t waiting
They’re piling up at riverbanks
I’m still at home playingwatchingignoring a movie
I’m too afraid to murmur a premature thanks
I stare at the ceiling
My spotify is wailing
The only thing moving is the fan.
The screen flashes into ecstatic noises
I throw a pillow to suffocate it and it groans
It’s a new smartphone, but no wonder not wise
Did he say yes, or no?
The notifications lie stagnant under the pillow
My heart’s beating loud and I’m warm
So is my phone
Under the pillow it waits for my expectant palm
I can’t bear to take it out but I stare at it
My entire room throbbing in anticipation
Even the lizard on the wall pauses to take a look
And I start to lose all my patience
Yes, yes! He likes me too
Oh, to be online and in love!
I kiss the screen
And start typing
It’s virtual, but real enough.
I will Rest my chubby fingers Against the cool iron bars Before my white painted windows Rest my sad shaped shoulder Against a wall which homes me Rest myself
The rain sings so beautifully It is beyond all writing I am beyond all words
I can be a moldy green patch of earth Who said I’m a girl? My feet isn’t skin They’re shells And they’re beautiful
The rain falls like it knows How to empty me I am happy as I know I am not only me
I am the rain The iron bars The window and the wall I have never lived or never died But I am alive and I’m singing
Today I don’t need to write Because today I can feel Today I can be Today I can sing What else do I need?
My childhood was inside books- Fairy tales and detective stories; Tonight when the city dies another death I clutch at my laptop I look up those books But I can’t go back to my grandmother’s old apartment and get them
I can’t go back to When I was not more than three feet high When I felt pretty And the green grass called me
It doesn’t, anymore How strange it is that the grass loses voice And I lose mine
I was nine but my little palm Could hold a world of confidence I trapped it in my fist and placed it on my hips I wore my blue frock and posed And I thought the world was mine
Now I think I was stupid Now I know I was happy Now I know, it’s childhood
The grass, the sky, the trees, the roads, Hell, even the streetlights after rain They’ve all lost their voices My old books lie dead Do they miss a blue-frocked girl?
But I miss her She didn’t care about the bad days she had She was me, some day. Now, just a third person pronoun I can’t reach
I’ll allow myself some tears While wishing she were here She has a lot that she could teach.
It's nice to have friends
But it's also not bad
To hear cotton-voiced guys and marble-voiced girls-
Strangers over group calls,
A happy little break from
Rotting in your bed and
Staring at the walls
A sixteen year old plays her favourite songs For a man a decade older I try to warn her But she doesn’t listen But I don’t listen As I keep humming the tunes The artsy man says his girlfriend loves I thank God he’s unavailable
I tease a guy, pull his legs I think I would avoid him If I were to meet him anywhere A classroom, a bus stand, a friend’s house He is rural but his tastes are global A gen Z specimen and a flirt I call him my brother and he bans me from the chat All girls in the group face exactly that And we laugh I promise to stop and he lets me come back But he’s a virgin, he says And I’m a virgin, but I only smile We all know we aren’t going anywhere Further
The older woman who sings like a star And the guy my age who plays the guitar The nerdy boy who shares great memes And the sulky teen who has big dreams All of them, I’ve known for a week, All of them have known me a bit
When the walls shut me in I let the internet win: They’re fragile and fickle But these are still bonds When I scrape for memories They won’t be gone
We’re, we know, just passing the time They tell me stories and then listen to mine, And we waste away our lonelinesses With pseudonyms and masked faces, Celebrating our virtual lives.
mimimusing 