#insanejukain

[insanejukain]

Checkboxes

Play that game, listen to that song, Read that book, call your mom, all these Things I add to a list, a neat List, with little checkboxes with Little check marks inside But they stand empty, There are no check marks inside

Do the laundry, read the news, Write that assignment, put on real shoes, Not flip-flops, these are things that get Added to the list, a list that gets longer And longer, and harder to read But the little checkboxes are empty, There are no check marks inside

Eat your lunch, drink water Go outside, get out of bed The list makes me dizzy, with More and more checkboxes Piled high, lines growing like Creeper vines, tying me down The check boxes remain empty

Get out of bed, get out of bed, Get outta my head, get out Just get out, please I'm being swallowed by the List, lines wrapped around me There's one around my throat It tightens- One little box is now checked in

[insanejukain]

Insomnia

Orange from the lights outside and

Blue from my bedroom lamp play

Together on my ceiling

Film class comes to mind, of the

Good and Evil dichotomy, of movie posters

And color palettes and all that jazz

But all I can think of is nothing

A point was made, however shallow

And I'm still awake

[insanejukain]

distracted by stale thoughts bouncing through my head

“zăofàn zăofàn zăofàn”

1 AM, so breakfast isn’t off the Table, but rote memorization comes first except not Because I’m here now

Fight the urge to self-plagiarize what I  Locked behind glass screen with an electric lock (”Ooh it’s a metaphor for his poetry he posts online”)

Oops, I got derailed But trainwrecks are great fun!

I do this to feed my attention-whore Tendencies because people’s reactions feel  Kinda like what I imagine heroin to be and  Better than my  考试 (That means test in Mandarin but you knew that)

Had to Google that anyways, which shows you Just how well I prepared

No proper conclusion here because Free-form poetry or life or something (”Look, he’s being meta, how self-aware!”)

“ 早饭 早饭 早饭 “

What the fuck did I just write and why.

Anyways, big F for my Chinese test tomorrow.

Gao Wenzhong has my deepest sympathies.

[insanejukain]

A Conversation About The Rain

She’s the type of person who know who she is and her effect on others, and uses it not to her advantage, but because she can.

You can listen to the rain, yet not hear it.

She’s dancing there, you can hear her footsteps. A part of your mind thinks it’s for you, but you know she just wants an audience.

She seems to be sure of what she can bring. Somehow she can cause havoc without meaning to. Should she be blamed?

Deep down in the thunderclouds, she knows. That’s just how she is.

She’s on fire.

Yet she does nothing but douse our hopes.

But why must you be so negative? She is but letting down her hair.

Because even if we know what she’s doing, even if we know her games, we still can’t help but be wounded.

Those wounds are what helps us grow. The lady still has our best interests in heart.

I wonder how it must feel to her, to be an eternal breeze. For as long as the music’s playing, she keeps dancing. She can’t stop, and she won’t.

Inevitably there will come a day, when she will no longer dance. When we can no longer feel that breeze. When she can no longer dance and sing alone. When we shall no longer exist, And neither will she.

Till then I’ll be a lovesick boy, waiting for a frozen kiss to set my heart on fire.

An accidental collaboration with @poetgirl. Like a person mindlessly humming a tune that arouses something within others, to join in and add their own bits.

[insanejukain]

Rainy Daze

Leaning against the wall, he lights up a cigarette

It staggers to life, a petite blaze against the darkened gunmetal storm

Slender wisps of smoke dance in front of his eyes, an ephemeral, hypnotic, toxic trance

That lulls him to sleep and then stings his eyes awake, warming his body while numbing his spirit

Not unlike his ex’s breath, he notes, still gulping it all in

Old habits die as hard as that cigarette burns slow

He laughs at the shitty metaphor

The ashes falls as the rain does

Its pitter-patter indistinguishable from the footfall of the crowds

I like the rain. And I know cigarette’s aren’t good for you, but they make for a very pretty picture.

[insanejukain]

My Dear Valkyrie

I can still feel the light, my dear Valkyrie So let me stay and finish the fight There’s still a war to be had The dew is rose-tinted, but I’ll be glad When we rid our fields of that goddamn blight Even if Fate cut their threads At least they’re not puppets anymore, but the honored dead Who drowned the hordes in a crimson sea My dear Valkyrie

Go gather the fallen; their swords shine Like torches, to guide the path of mine As I sever heads and clear a path Annihilate my foes by releasing my wrath I’ll carve out my place, so you’ll come back for me

My dear Valkyrie

I was bored in class, so I made this. Feels more simple than my previous works, but maybe it has a certain lightness to it that the others don’t. I don’t know, I’m no literary critic/English teacher.

[insanejukain]

Ship Aflame

I'm the captain of a ship on fire A Viking funeral, but I'm still alive This glorious vessel now my smoldering pyre Begging for Death's embrace, yet I survive Alone, on my own, adrift in a stormy sea My man-o-war keels over, destined to dive To lie on the sea bed, an eternal sleep, to be Healed of Cupid's poisoned wound, yet still drunk On that glass of grapeshot gifted by the enemy

I'm the captain of a ship aflame Staffed by the wretched likes of fear And insecurity, who play their cruel games While angels and devils both whisper in my ear "She'll never set foot upon your ship Just give up pursuit, the end is near..." It doesn't matter- The prow begins to dip My final log: Wondering if it was a sin To dare to think I'd ever kiss your ruby lips

Actually proud of this one. Put real emotion into it. Read Dante, wanted to write in his style, guess it worked.

[insanejukain]

Random Haiku Dump 2

iPhone in one hand Pumpkin Spice in the other A basic bitch strikes

Two sides of a coin Oppressors and the oppressed Both use the AK

Though it’s really rare It’s like switching on the stars When her face lights up

The only truly lighthearted poetry I like writing are haiku, because haiku can be anything you want them to be.