If I come home after a certain time
I still stumble automatically
(out of habit)
I still fumble with my key in the lock
I still stagger up the stairs
I still fall asleep in my clothes
I still wonder where you are
Yizhuang Culture ParkI’d take a sober mountain
over your chemical-fueled paradise
where islands are pink and seasonal
fashionistas bursting forth in short,
Where the sun hangs, veiled,
aged by midday,
still burning at nightfall.
I wander through hazy streets,
dodging (and making)
hasty judgements and
You cling to me,
sucking me dry as I wallow
in your haphazard wisdom
in my own ignorance.
I’d trade your swathes of
grey red decaying green
for a lonely mountain,
but my transaction
would leave me
drowning in my solitude.
Wo de yuyan dui niMy words for you remain
uncomposed like my thoughts,
content retaining potential.
Wo de yuyan dui ni
Xiang ganqing yiyang you suo bao liu
Translated by: 陆冉-Lu Ran
Shi ChaTime Difference
How can you turn cold with the weather?
Can it be that summer is for catching hold,
before we fall, back into the earth and then,
await the spring?
Ni zenme neng xiang dongtian yiyang manman bian leng?
Shi bu shi yinwei xiatian geng shihe wenrou?
Na shi wo men hai meiyou luo hui dimian ，
Tingzhi zaici, dengdai chuntian ?
Translated by： 陆冉-Lu Ran
InsomniaI take you on dates
to poetry nights
to tell you things I can’t say
without an audience.
You think you’re not brave
because you can’t get up
and spill your heart out
to a room full of strangers
But I make myself into a stranger
when I'm with you
by saying things I don’t mean
and saving the best lines
for the next performance.
When you fall asleep first,
I lie awake on the window ledge
because I don’t know how
to crawl into my own bed
unless you ask me to.
All I want is to give
you everything but
I’m so afraid
it might be too much
that I give you
When I finally do crawl
into that bed,
still half in slumber,
hold me like
you’re making up for lost time
and I realise
I am the luckiest
idiot on this earth.
Hui Gu NiangCindarella
It took me twelve hours
To learn how to say your name;
Twelve glorious hours.
Now, an ocean away,
I am left with a pair of your shoes
And a piece of your heart;
One half a size too big,
The other a perfect fit
And I don’t know what to do with either.
Hui Gu Niang
Wo yong le sh
Neither Me Nor The Ink Remembers...Neither Me Nor The Ink Remembers A Time When We Weren’t On Your Arm
To the one who hasn’t moved in;
(and who thinks I might love him
a little less
if he were to admit that maybe,
The one I have to call when I’m locked out
because he’s the only one with a set of keys to
The one who,
after knowing me for two menstrual cycles,
already agreed to spend
The one who,
only as an afterthought,
decided that it was probably a good idea
to ask me first
before turning up at the door with a two month old kitten
(Her name’s Lily)
The one who hasn’t been home in two weeks,
but claims there is a storage room somewhere in this city
with his name on it
（I do believe you.
I’ve been there.
I Want To Stand With YouI want
To stand on every continent with you
(We met on neutral territory)
Two rounds of ‘meet the parents’
And we’re almost halfway there
In This TogetherI know that it’s not my fault or responsibility to fix it.
I know that it just is.
But I can’t help taking it as a personal criticism that I am not able to draw every last bit of sadness out of your body.
It's like you're on standby,
All I can do is stand by.
And nothing makes me more sad than knowing that I can’t make you happy.
It will never get easier seeing you down
And I will probably never stop blaming myself for things beyond my control.
But I know that I do help,
In ways I can’t quantify or measure
Because happiness and listlessness don’t come in units or servings
And I know that you are not one or the other;
You just are.
You are every wish and dream and fear and regret.
You are every. thing.
And on my bad days, you are there.
Easter IslandI want to take a trip to Easter Island,
With a daytime flight and a window seat.
I want to watch the ocean pass beneath us;
Thousands of miles without
a single blip of green
And when we land,
I’ll feel closer and further away than ever.
I want to look up at stars
Not blotted out by city lights,
Remembering that we were up there somewhere,
Between the ocean and the ether,
And we’ll feel closer
and further away than ever.
CultistOne day, we’ll worship rust
and marvel how it claimed
the world of industrious metal,
leaving nothing but slowing
reddening struts, half-hearted
angles reaching outward.
We’ll dive into the wrecks
looking for half-sparking wonders
that, when properly restored, gleam
into sputtering song or splitting
pictures of different worlds
and the faces of old Gods.
Who will perform the autopsy?There is a forest painted in
scorching red, fire blooming
beneath its dirt-caked skin,
smoke skimming leaves
as plumes of flame snicker
behind the tail of a doe.
Coals coating tree-trunks,
hungry for life, it devours
the same way they ravaged her
when she said 'no'.
Bright eyes morph into murkiness
as the inferno marches.
When rust washed down
her throat, she did not scream,
only begged for them to stop.
Beneath the ash,
they find her body.
Wasted FleshFlesh, flesh,
Such wasted flesh...
This able-bodied meat.
Defiled by drugs and impurities.
A mind born with clarity,
Yet so blatantly abused.
No harm did you suffer;
Other than harm self inflicted.
Disregarding the hopeless gazes,
Of those who were born without.
No good, no good;
This I cannot abide...
I shall take this flesh from you,
And it shall be tended and made anew.
A gift to those who are deserving,
Of the very gifts you cast aside...
Now then, my dear,
Do stop your screaming.
It will only be painful,
Until your heart stops beating.
- Word of Chen, 1/6/2016
Is It Love?If I hugged you,
would you never let go?
If I kissed you,
would you cherish that moment?
If I reached for your hand,
would you take mine gently?
If I needed a shoulder,
would you let me cry on yours?
If I needed to talk,
would you really listen?
If I needed to scream,
would you do it with me?
If I needed to go,
would you come with me?
If I fell for you,
would you catch me?
or just let me hit the pavement?
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si