the-encounter

  
Every encounter
Is a difficult and hard decision
Too tired to choose
To stay or to go.
Thousands of doors on the road 

And there ought to be
Someone
To go first.

The impact, the impact
That caused by every encounter
Is too big
That nothing is going to be the same 
As before.

Every encounter.

Written on 3 October 2015.

the-sunset

the sunset at the college
always reminds me of the
happy carefree days

when we are all nineteen
and here we met
we play and craze
and skipped the lessons
we talk of the dreams
we think nonsense
we feel youth

the sunset
the sunset!

always perfectly warm and bright beam
disguising as an eternal moment.

 

 

Written on 25 November 2014
At HKBU, during the sunset

a-return

a return
from the hell of fire
from the heart of darkness
from the cave of silence
from the sea of despair

a place with hope and light
sometimes a heavy shower
or maybe a sip of breeze
or with the burning sun
and always twenty one

for decades or so
it is always twenty one
the mercy the play the craze the youth the fun

stupidity and innocence
where we believe we are old enough for choices and chances
shameless and fearless

a place of memory
a spot in the memory
a return

that can never ever return

 

Written on 25 November 2014
At HKBU — a place of memory after 3 years of studying

nightmare-on-and-on

every day and night
is hopelessly filled with flight
and nightmare silent air whitening hair dropping tears
contribute to the darkness in the room of despair that cannot bear

but who does care
for who is sewing every single thread
onto the cloth of bloody red
and what is not fair left unfair

 

 

Written on 28 October 2014

 

 

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little-bunny-asleep

sweet sleep, long night, silent air —
a little bunny curled around the soft blanket
a tiny treat, dreaming sweet
nothing can compare with the warmth of the feet

good night, sweet dreams.

 

 

Written on 5 november 2014.

 

 

 

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nerves

lovely little birds from the north
pick up the messy lines of nerves
in the woods inside the skull
the thicker one is picked by a gull
and the thinner ones by crows
all but one of the warblers stayed and the room is stuffed full

crumpled nerves make a nest in the head
scratching
stretch
aching
squeezing
evacuating

the last warbler go with the robin into the woods
here they fly
heretheyfly

to the edge of sanity
to the border in front of melancholy

and they stopped
and they stopped

on the fragile branch of a tree
emptied wholly.

 

 

Written on 28 October 2014.

 

 

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