a journey that never ends

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coming soon...

vol. ii

[ajourneythatneverends]

we're not done

[ajourneythatneverends]

And there it was, The weird feeling: Embracing in each other's arms A tidal wave of calm A majestic release of a dove So now I know, that this is love

but the story must continue...

[ajourneythatneverends]

A glimpse of my past, but it is no more.

For now that part of me has expired.

What is to come? Well, only time will tell

[ajourneythatneverends]

ROLL UP ! ROLL UP !

Ladies and gentlemen, the show of the century is just around the corner ! We can't WAIT to see you there !

vol ii - coming soon...

[ajourneythatneverends]

my heart beats for You <3

[ajourneythatneverends]

Fragile porcelain must shatter

Dear reader,

I must cordially thank you for your attendance to my delightful birthday party. Unfortunately, like all good things, they must come to an end. That is why I am residing far away now - and ask for you to be patient. I start to crack and shatter, so wait a little longer to be introduced to your next destination.

I wish you all the best

Yours truly,

MT <3

[ajourneythatneverends]

things are starting to shatter

[ajourneythatneverends]

So This is Love

It was a weird feeling: Emotions twirling, Masks peeling, Stomach churning. Novelty was introduced, And so I shifted closer.

Juvenility acted as a cloud of cotton candy, Sweetening the very sight, the very smell of you. My eyes like a kitten, in awe of your presence. We were one, despite our lack of contact. Pink, light blue, bright yellows flooding my brain, Leaving absolutely no room for pain.

Walking through wonderland, falling down the rabbit hole. A strawberry picnic in a field of roses, Sharing bread with our mouths. We lean closer, embrace in this newly discovered country. Connection feels permanent, a sunrise that never ends. Adulthood far away from our immature fantasies, Safety is granted.

In my imagination, we know the definition of love. On est en sécurité dans notre amour Eternity is a blanket of sanctity, my mind will never fail.

And there it was, The weird feeling: Embracing in each other's arms A tidal wave of calm A majestic release of a dove So now I know, that this is love

[ajourneythatneverends]

The Fireplace

The pavement is drenched, Greyed with erosion, Paper plate rings splash on the ground. My hair forms into needles, dripping moisture.

Staring up at an angel, I am blinded. Protected by the light bestowed upon me. The lamp cries heavier droplets, Flickering as it shivers. I shiver alongside, I am cold. I tie my coat closer, snuggling into myself. Fiercely, the weather counters my resistance. The storm grows heavier. My thoughts scream louder. I want to escape, I NEED to escape.

And then I think of You - I am back to room temperature. In front of a fireplace, warming up my hands. Cuddling up cosy with a cotton blanket. Sitting there, drinking warm oolong tea. I begin to read an ancient book carefully and pick out unfamiliar words that I’d like to learn.

The words morph into a figure. I want to reach out to You, Yet this reality that I have created is temporary. This warmth cannot last forever. I plan in my mind, an opportunity to focus on here. Soon, I will live like this - I will make sure of it. I will thrive in my reality.

However, I don’t have the courage. So, I sit and watch You. Wishing that You’d be next to me, Warming up by the fireplace.

[ajourneythatneverends]

Court Jester

Every day, he juggles his bowling pins Rustic and worn, care-free they fly He dances and prances Legs twisting to make knots, hands shaking in glee He tells knock-knock jokes Moulding words to suit his interest They watch in awe and laugh at his antics

His red-and-white cockscomb jingled with excitement, Creating a jovial ambience that shaped the air. Powdered make-up dusted onto the floor, His clothes paled from overuse. A scar on his hand could tell a story, But no one was allowed to know - He wore his gloves with pride.

Life would seem simple for him, Same routine, every day. Wake up, make those happy His customers had to be satisfied His service is of top quality.

He sits at home, in a stained leather chair Stripping off his makeup With warm-salty tears His painted smile bleeds Engraved into his complexion.

He only piques people’s interest through his presence, But when he leaves, they forget about him. They never ask how he is, Who he is. He is merely a token to them. A temporary effect of joy. But inside, he is shielded from it. Immune to his joy.

Who is he?

The Jester I am the Court Jester

[ajourneythatneverends]

Les Échecs

My eyes open to see 64 black-and-white squares. I observe my environment and fiddle with my fingers. I am the first to make a move, To create the game. I choose to move my weakest. My opponent mirrors my strategy. I then release my knight with little hesitation. Every decision is fragile, This game, like paper, Can be folded in any way; Torn easily, a poor frail thing. My opponent is curious about what my next position will be. Will I fool him, or will he trick me? Each placement is done so quickly, swift movements. But then I make that fatal move that jeopardizes my game. I choose to attack. Releasing my queen. Losing my queen. My walls are cracking, eroding, tearing. The paper is ripped, destroyed. And then it’s done. With one single move, my game has ended. Yet I ask if I did it on purpose: To self-sabotage my one and only chance. There is an element of regret. But it’s too late now. Too late to change it. Too late to restore my game.

Checkmate.

[ajourneythatneverends]

梅瓶 (Meiping)

I have a secret, Not any old secret. My secret. Shut away from the world, Shut away from myself. I spend my days putting the fragments together Cracked porcelain, not easily mended. Oh so delicate, the pieces slip and fall.

Yet this is also your mess, your secret. We share this shattered disorder. But hide it from ourselves. Will I ever mend the vase? I imagine placing tulips, just for you. Will someone ever mend me? Blossoming love, shattered in one swoop. Glue me back together.

On the floor lies the remains of plum blossom. Devastated, edges sharp with agony. My dear, I see You in the cuts of my destruction. Sprawling my finger across, I nip myself - But the thoughts of a possible You protect me From the pain and sacrifice I endure. I glance to see a mirage of you in the shine Of the unfolded family - I rush out.

Leaving my workstation, into the void: My palace. I drop onto my knees. A sense of hopelessness. I need to understand, yet I am too naive. How do I replenish what was never there?

In the darkest of moments, I realise the answer: How to rid of this secret Dispose of the vase Away from anyone else, Away from You, Away from myself.

But now I know, how to fix the unfixable: Standing right in front of me the entire time, Passive, docile, empty. You; the real You.

I prepare my clay

[ajourneythatneverends]

A Slice of Bread

Cries of hunger awake me, Starving for gluten. My tempered love calls me down. Down to the kitchen, to gather my ingredients. I care for each tool that I’ll use, Polishing my silverware, Preparing my procedure.

I’m hit with the aroma of my fresh loaf, Waiting to be consumed. Faced with a bewitching moment of invitation, My oven door, suddenly open. My hair is blown away from my face by the dry heat, Absorbing me, loving me.

I lean down to cradle my careful creation, And then place it onto its resting place. Reaching for my punishment, My knife excites to slice into the bread.

But then I stop. My thoughts grow heavy: Is this the right thing to do? Am I to be selfish? I shrug them off, I have to slice into my feverish bread. My olfactory senses are fed with the warm feeling. Me, I hiss with excitement whilst my bread responds. Squeezing on the metallic handle, refusing to resist. I feel as if I’m a novice; lack of control over my œuvre. But simultaneously, the master of my desire.

As my blade cuts deeper into my fluffy cloud, Moisture escapes the slit I ensued. It feels so good - I accept my fate. Yet, soon I grow full, so I set my bread aside.

Yet, as I guessed my mercurial hunger bestows upon me again - I must have more. No longer an urge, but a hobby. The kitchen already warm, So I begin my heinous process once more, And cut even bigger slices to then put in my mouth.

Embarrassed. No one must know, So I keep it a secret. Shun it from the world.

I just cannot resist to have bread.

[ajourneythatneverends]

The Neighbour Next Door

An echo of silence ricocheted from each house A neighbourly mist of friendliness between the concrete Us all friendly, Warm-hearted and friendly Yet we all kept to ourselves, Layers of brick granting us privacy, security.

We’d wave to each other in the street, Then go back to our hibernation. We only saw our performances A front-stage act reserved for the public But that was the structure, Our structure.

And then it all changed, Intoxicating fumes infiltrating the street, Poisoning the blue-grey sky Someone new, something different Who are you?

Chatty, empathetic, kind. Who are you? My neighbours adored you, All of you, but something was wrong.

Streets livening up, sky bluer than before. Privacy has been desecrated The walls crashing down Everyone passionate for conversation Twitching my mouth, I look at you with despair.

A newly vibrant street, But something was wrong. Everyone was friendly, Friendly, Friendly.

A sky of enchanted emerald green Bestowed on our neighbourhood. Sublime for us all, Yet I protest.

Now, everyone ignored me, I flourished in my solitude. I told them you weren’t to be trusted, I was alone. Warning them of your Janus face They all left me. You are wrong.

But it’s nice to keep to myself, To be left in solitude, And so I distance myself, Away from the neighbour next door.

[ajourneythatneverends]

A Blossoming Ballad

Passionately, I fertilise my garden. My precious beauties shaped in their curves, Held up, supported by a green pole My children smile back at me, Nourishing on the chilled water. I prune a few roses, Controlling their growth. No shame for it is daylight.

However, my orchard has limits. A deep sorrow of impermanence lingers in the very cool mist of night. My lilies, assisted by a brick wall, have grown – risen to become the beauties they are. Like a baker, I admire my creation, yet I am unsettled.

The moonlight shines on its pink petals, The yellow stamen, carpel begins to lose strength. My picket fence of sanctity has been invaded. Disease, malevolence takes over. I am stood in the illumination of the street lamp, A halo above. Reaching towards my child, the flower crumbles in my hand. The leaves are weak, browning at my very touch. Grow my pretties, but they do not listen. They can not hear me. I am surrounded by the brick wall, Taunted by memory.

As the lamp flickers, the soil beneath me opens up. Swallowed whole. Donated to the Earth, only to be reused. I see the roots of my creations, The paths they took beneath the ground. I open my mouth to smile, but my throat is now dirt Resistance is an option, but I choose acceptance. Engulf me, swallow me, embrace me. And so with one fatal swoop, my garden is now fertilised.

[ajourneythatneverends]

My Beautiful Garden

My garden is beautiful. I tend to it everyday: To the flowers, To the trees. To the animals, To the leaves. I pick out the weeds – carefully with a cotton glove. I glance at the sky, a world that is up above I brush the grass and get rid of the perished foliage. I trim the browning leaves that hang on the hedge. I fertilize my flowers, so they bloom better than ever. I watch for the birds, so they don’t drop their feathers I pick off the bugs so they don’t harm my garden. I free them elsewhere, no judgement, just pardon.

But one day, I left my garden to tend to someone else’s. My trees begin to wilt, and my flowers begin to discolour. The buzzy bees drop dead as they exit my yard. But the garden I helped, bloomed even better than mine did before. How soon I’ll regret to have tended to this chore.

Why did I help this garden out? Was it the previous sight for sore eyes, Could I prevent not but to hear their cries. Maybe I thought my garden didn’t need looking after. So with spade in hand, I can’t help but to think, that: I regret tending to someone else’s garden.