Daddy.

I am your beautiful girl, daddy.

Believe me.

It is true,

you know what's best for me.

For my tender eyes speak of your resemblance,

my ears listen to the rhythmic pulse you put me to bed,

as you soothe me with the frequency embedded deep inside,

with all, and all that, that lead you to.

That had you lead to me, dad.

Much of your carbon copy, I suspect,

have more than a little faith in me, you should.

For I have a lot from mom,

yet to be nourished.

Much of her cheekiness, her grace, her loving smile,

it is all... inside of me.

Then again,

I might be not so much like you, after all!

Maybe you knew, as I thought so,

you are the world to me.

I love you, dad.

Blue District.

The reflection of the moon-
it was as if the dark old black lane had no trace of speed,
accept for the blue light.

It was a district that I had to cross upon,
to reach my destination.

I would meet some passers-by, which might share the same reason of existence,
a rule, maybe.

It was akin to having a stroll in a very individual's mind.
In this case, it's my own,
as one could utilize so much of the given space of imagination.
I made it mine, an underground personification.

Next thing I know,
I'm dancing in the realm of syncopation and tic tac strikes the spots of my rather lively-connected shell.

Soon after,
I left for the entrance from stage right.

Fulfilling.

As much as having a beautiful meal, with a great company, I recalled.
It was nothing that could be substituted, even at every attempt of reenactment.

I am thus fulfilled, after a season of change,
in another dimension this time.

It might be too overwhelmed for one other to keep, in the process of transmission.
I am sorry that I had insisted.

But now, I feel that I could leave anytime, if it was permitted.
If that was ever arranged.

I would embrace myself tight, as I embrace forgiveness.
I would let my grudges go, though I'm not sure if I'm ready to do so.
I would float lightly in the air,
a state that one has lead me into.

Fly with me, love.

Calves.

那天 我看见小牛们在牛群中 奔

绿丛中

好多牛儿

我在想

我在藐视着这里的什么

Flutter By.

1. Of all the good things you said,
I started to doubt thy means.

2. Fourth dimension to be seen through mirrors.
It's a spectacle!

3. Pineapples became,
somehow symbolic lately.

4. If ever I'm an architect, working at construction sites.
I would imagine myself fishing on the sheave.

5. Only the crowd in Rio could sing X from Ipanema like an anthem.
You know, how they do it on candle-lit tables, hundreds of them under the same roof.

6. Faces I see
when relationships sail in the bed of blue waves. And I cry.

7. I'd love to say-
I'm a great actor. Literally, and the other way round.

8. Indigo is her colour, and it will always be.
Ah well, yes, it's just a garment.

Byakuya.

Snowflakes sprinkled on your head,
it kept me wondering,
what was it that had that triggered,
without mercy,
it must have been.

This very condition it sits,
where it isn't proportioned with time,
nor the flying fox,
nor the Northern star.

The universe is speaking,
it keeps me pondering...
whenever senses gathered and fluid
like a blossoming flower.

I wonder where does it resolve to?
Would it be, like,
one that exists without a purpose,
which is only feasible for a black hole to consume
- of all that one could reason of.

It is only a mere act of nature.
Better if I were to only witness from afar,
...snowflakes sprinkled on your head.

Waltz.

I'd always love to put myself in your shoes,
and go through that sad, long ride,
like how'd you feel, when rain drops needle the surface of your flaked skin,
when it was near to feeling
numb.

I'd love to measure what was left behind the big red curtains,
that took me so much to pull and sustain, just to empathize,
so silently, I wish.




I would love to throw everything
out of the window

I'd rather dance a little waltz with you

...as it is

Farewell.

Silent felt so awkward between us,

when normally, we could still vibrate by just being static，

like mannequins in the display frame.

I guess each of us had our own ways to express our very last moments,

and I was sitting inside of my cubicle, looking through the window frame,

tracking my sight forward.

Why do I see you, you and you being so frail,

why do I see shells without... sparkling souls

where am I standing now, I asked

And I got to talk to the mirror in the corner of the cubicle,

I told her, now then I know, how it feels.

And then I said,

I guess this is how they express our very last moments, together.

It was an exception.

It was how tristeza was the chain of cause and effect.

It was... the emotion of dread in the air.

When I left,

there was nothing to be brought along with.

then again, I guess, this is how it should feel when the train really stops,

when the end, collapse.

So much of the emotional ride, like a cyclone - the whole could be dragged,

much like human, are we-

such dramatic art of thy beauty.

"Auf Wiedersehen, a bientot"

Sybolism.

一首八月小夜曲
给你
—feline

有时候
说文字无法承载的负荷
何不
蜻蜓点水式地 化成
不肤浅
只有 不具体的形式

在那个模糊建设的王国里
任我们游 百尺千尺 深

那一天下午
突然想念我们一起潜水的时候
当下 我们
被允许的一同能量
我们周围没有华丽的装饰
没有刻意的嵌
记得 当时牵手的探
在无限的维里 游


曾经我多许地 仰慕你文字的掌控
何曾是一个格子
扮演的角色是框 是限

其实你 也应该想飞翔

我期盼
我们还可以相遇
在这个多层重叠的余地里