no longer~

I no longer seek refuge

In approval of others

In the fake lovely comments

That hold no truth.

I no longer find solace

In sharing my feelings

In talking to those who “should know better”

Instead of just feeling.

I no longer find comfort

In the arms of my lovers

In the depths of my heart

That are fragments of my own imagination.

I no longer find contentment

In the further, distant future

That is supposedly better than tomorrow

And now is just a ticket to get there.

I no longer find peace

In thinking that ignorance is bliss

In stuffing my emotions back to my heart

To the point where they feel like disease.

I no longer count on

Spontaneously made promises

Hopeful smile or gaze

Instead of holding onto a branch of my own

Whilst being drowned in the midst of a stream of




I found faith when I thought there was none

In the abyss of my solitude.

Little did I know,

It was a blessing in disguise

Brought by my angels in forms of white butterflies,

11:11s and 222s.

I no longer seek truth

Where it does not exist –

And that’s from without.

All is within.


Queer belonging

I do not wish my life to be linear.

I want it to be a wrinkle in time,

Passing one at the time,

Collage of fleeting moments

Recorded, preserved

And cruised by others

In search of collective memory.

A flaneur,

The bohemians…

Will become my true friends,

And we will paint our queer belonging

In the future

We do not yet have,

But subconsciously own

And can call home.


The impact of beautiful works in queer theory I am currently reading ~


I’m tired of a constant, unfeasible desire,

Of being ghost of my own imagination,

Of magnetic attraction

To the warmth of your skin

That belongs to someone else.

My passion is unfathomable,

Hidden, prisoned, abandoned –

I forgot it exists

Until your gaze awakened it

In all its being.

I pray to all gods

To leave my heart alone

But they chose to tear it apart

With the fire

That instead of extinguishing

I ignited.

I’m tired of

Someone’s love

Being ghost

Of my own infatuation.

Let’s talk

Let’s talk

Let’s talk

About why bats can see only at night

About why the sea runs away in the moonlight

About why we hate our bodies

And why we love them.

Let’s talk

About what terrified us when we were children

About why the shade of sun is golden

About why we ever started talking

And what kept the conversation going.

Let’s talk

About all the languages we’ve ever heard

About why the others are a common herd

About why we like each other’s hands

About how we hold them

locked together.

Let’s talk

About them

About nothing in particular

About everything

About us

and I’ll think about you.

Homesick (again)

Those who live at home

Who are able to work at home

Who are able to love

To laugh

To speak

At home

Are the lucky ones.

By home I don’t mean the four walls

With family pictures on them.

By home I mean homeland

With its vast green fields

With the language your heart beats to

With the roads you’d walk

With your eyes closed.

Homeland is like this fine lover

That knows your notes

And how to play them

When you’re far away.


But God knows

My heart is weeping


I was torn away

From where I belong.