Sound Waves: Always With Me in the Spirited Away Soundtrack
Series of Short Poems
He is a tall dark stranger, lulling whoever
He sees with his trance-like gaze
He has skin glistening with rave music
And alcohol-poisoned streaks
He has a voice that burns inside my veins--
The one that denies he's already flirted
With the social butterflies, but hasn't
Retrieved all of the pollen from a certain
Wallflower in the sidelines.
I could hear it among the beats of
Wanting something out from this night
Of limited seduction.
He has caught me, where he wants me
He's lit up some interior stove I
Never knew I had installed there.
Amid the shouts of unwanted want,
Much needed desire
Its selfish but all five senses are
This man has taken contrl of what I
Still have left of me.
The thrill-filled part of it all--
I don't want to break this
Given, blessed chance
"One look could kill. My pain, your thrill"
The Bridesmaid and Admirer
Why am I always a bridesmaid,
Never the blushing bride?
Ding! Dong! Wedding bells
Always ring for other gals
But one fine day--
Please let it be soon--
I shall wake up in the morning
On my own honeymoon.
You're a beauty, saved up for the better
That bride may look happy, but you will too.
Bing! Bong! Wedding bells
May ring for other gals
But you'll look forward to it
You're not a girl who'd quit
You'll wake up every morning
In your own special honeymoon.
This isn't a new, heavy-weighted feeling
That is invisible to the eye but
Painstakenly there in the blue
Pale shadows hang out eerily
Over shuddering shoulders, ripping
Away with streams carved out from
No signs have informed strangers
That there is something incresingly wrong
Underneath that hollow-eyed smile
The screams echo and bounc playfully
Making their circumference around the
Victims and victimizers
"You've lost the fight"
"Nothing to gain"
Always written in verbal form, its
Always, always, the victimizer's fault
You want to be helped?
Why aren't you helping me?
And thus, tis why burning bridges
Fails to annihilate the feelings
Still holding the gun towards
Your frightened mind.
When will I be forgiven for
Whatever I've done?
Will these tears, even spoken out of
The defence stand, say what
I cannot anymore?
Hillside (an 'epilogue' to Trust)
I shouldn't presume anymore
Otherwise I'll constantly spin about
In my lonesome teacup for one
Ancd watch in misery the people
I know who care but
Obviously want to be with
Better, more imaginative people.
This is selfish desires to
Not some childish want of
Being part of the happy
Fruits basket of high school.
Always with me, only my heart.
I say goodbye to whatever childhood I
Would've been glad to live in.
But instead, I dream
This unreachable cloud of tear-soaked