I hear whispers
on waters
that crash and swell
a calling
to my distant lover
who never returned
to lift the dews of my sorrow,
the fog is still there
and i wait, aching—
to be seen,
to be joined,
to be merged
as one

an inspector who tracks every move
every move i take—a reward or a crime
whether i watch a movie or series that mirrors my past
or a drift through a day where nothing feels wrong
or sleep soundly through the forgiving night---
his eyes, like a cctv, never sleeps

but when i slip, when I commit a sin…
he interrogates me, “why did you do it?”
and there, in a grey, unblinking light
i stand arrested by my own intent
it’s like a serial killer replacing the skin of myself
he acts without care, so i'm caught red-handed

crash and slam---
into the silver reflection,
where
I see myself
on the waters,
my thoughts
go astray
and begin
a riot in
my mind,
shattering
what's left of me

work,
sleep
work,
sleep,
work,
sleep,
work,
then work again

stuck in this digital timeline
the days never passed
it’s always on repeat
like time is a concubine
living with wealthy billionaires
working endlessly day and night
making her ends meet
so nobody will know what day it is

who will make this world a better place?
huh, the rich only care for themselves
we’re disillusioned to the fantasy that money
will fix everything in a flash
a bandage on a wound, as they say
but it leaves gaps and crevices
it will never be healed from the blood it leaves
the blood will always fall like rain on a wedding day

i am not a robot who will end up in a dumpster
if i am no use to everyone
if i am no use, what i am then?
a entertainer?
a maid?
a office worker?
a human?
who i am?

barked and barked and barked
beneath the light-bulb moon
a careless whisper in the twilight winds
that opened the doors in the house
walked beside the corner of my bed
questioning me,
talking to me,
persuading me,
like a market vendor
who tells me to buy its products
when I got no answer to tell
only cut phrases or words
stacked. I am afraid to tell
that the future is not on
my hands nor to everyone
only existence and existence

emitting a light
that is blinding

the faces of people
displayed and
multiple texts
swirled like a
fruit salad

the light it shines
is an act of artificial
prayer
a saccharine
heaven or
a bitter
hell