An Immigrant in the New MilleniumAn Immigrant in the New MillenniumJames, my heroMy favorite movie is James and the Giant Peach. This is not because the animation was cute, or because Tim Burton achieved some masterful tale that hasn’t already been told, but because I relate to it in a rather silly way. I always think that the passage which James takes, the immigration from Europe to America, was an acid trip. To be honest most of Tim Burton’s movies seem like they would make more sense on acid. You should remember this comes from a well-educated person on the program D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education), which I am sure most public schools instilled in the late nineties or early two thousand. Somehow James is my idol because he takes this passage very calmly. Even when faced with terrible situations, large spiders in floating peaches, James has a smile on his face.I also remember smiling while I was taking my passage to America. On February 17th, 1999 I boarded a plane with my mother and brother,
ArjintiuArjintiuFlesh rebels against flesh.Pulsing, throbbing, giving wayTo the soul escape.Red everywherecovering the woundThe new scar. Slightly nauseatingTo see your inner self.More importantly, the pain is sharp.Sudden as it receds, it beginsAnew. Waves, new waves, of fear.Waves washing over, like the shoreBeing washed over, carvedAway by the ocean.Every new fear takes away somethingFrom the soul, only later beingBrought back.Though sometimes the feeling isRefreshing, it is alwaysReminiscent of past mistakes.What, if anything, does itAccomplish? The person growsSmaller in hope,Larger in despair. Then death, suddenly,Subtly, invites the cold wind.Oh, how I miss the blood,The wound! Oh, how I missMy soul, breathe it in me onceMore wind.
7th May '09Pass through me like I'm not theresing for me like I careAll I want to see in truth isAll the burdens that I beardisappearGet rid of this ironyLet my mind be endlesslyat peace let it be restfully,asleep dreams can't hauntme and I will never weepnot willingly.let me stop right here.
29th April '09Every time the needle touches my skinA sad memory awakens withinTouching my mothers dead handAs ink goes in and blood comes out then.The pain is what I wanted, it hides trueThings unwanted. Give me the clueI seek about a time past dueEmpty thoughts not near, thoughMy skin is dead, I'm not afraid to taint it's flowWith burning memories, throwThrough closed doors I once locked so tight.After the sting of lotion seeps inand blood dries bitterly on my skin,After pain rejected from within,Beauty marks wounds I would open againMy back curves, twists, bleeds,With repent, I fear sinful deedsI have no regrets for. NeedsAre much more intense under tortured fleshI breathe new, I feel new, Every TimeMy fingers run over engraved signsO beauty I am in awe, I am at peaceI feel myself reborn, my flesh not my ownWho can truly understand how good itis to feel a steady handCarving art that moves, breathes, feels. BendThe rules to myself until I end.
EmbraceCrushed in Dreams by this weak BodyCelestial in Nightmares of painMy thoughts Explode alone in space...Light; a millenia away from my own true Wish.Where, o where that Nebula LiesThat Heaven I've been searching for.Only in the place between Time and Movement,Do I see some of my Improvement.As grains of Sand go by, in the Time glassDry.My Mountain turns into an ant HillMy Fiord into a prairie, but no matter.The goal, challenge, I will alwaysStand alone.Touched, but never Embraced.
FilthI got rid of a lot of things,Small stuff, big stuff, things that keep memories.I trashed old photos I burned old stories.I even deleted past history.This one time I broke that vase,Then I lost a bracelet,I'm a disgrace.I threw out laughter; I threw out tears;I shedded clothes; I burned fears;I forgot gifts most dear.But I haven't been able to get away,In my mind all that stuff stays.All these things gone,But the images of them will forever be strong.I can wash away the filth any day,But the dirt will still stay.
the cavethere is nothing in this place.so empty smoothness surrounds me always,I'd rather try and catch my breathsilently by myself.some days I wish for this placeothers hatred turns my anger to grace.I crave the freedom no one knowsbut then the loneliness overthrows,all my common sense is gonebut then it's replaced by someone.my hands always coldthin blood runs old.I wonder when this cycle will stopwill they ever change the clock.please try to understandI'm at odds with my own brain.I just want to hidelike a childin my mind.